


7x17

by n_nami



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_nami/pseuds/n_nami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam has to be checked into a mental hospital, Dean breaks down. And right there, when he thinks he just hit rock bottom, an old friend returns - without knowing that he is and old friend at all. This is the story of how Dean struggles with the fact that his best friend doesn't remember him, and has to remind him step by step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	7x17

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: all the series up to 7x15 („Repo Men“)  
> Author's Note: Written for omgspnbigbang's hiatus olympics challenge. This is practically my headcanon, based on the whole series plus the teaser for 7x16, where you see Sam being brought to a hospital and Cas turning around at the end. And just for good measure, I have to say that I didn't know that Cas will return as a healer, which hadn't been mentioned until lately, when I was already too far into writing this.

“Cas?” Dean croaked, his voice coming out dry and rough, and he knew it was from shock.

This couldn't be. Just couldn't.

Dean stared wordlessly at the man in front of him, the man with the familiar deep blue eyes and dark-brown hair. The man that once was Jimmy Novak, and now was Castiel. Had to be.

And yet, there was not a single feeling spreading in his chest. He didn't feel a spark of hope or joy or anything at seeing his old friend, not the familiar comfort of having Cas around, nothing like how it felt when they were still hunting together. Dean was sick of everything that life or destiny or whatever threw at him lately, he was sick of it all, sick to the point of feeling numb and empty inside. It had been so long that he felt something remotely resembling happiness that even now, there wasn't a thing that could lighten up his mood.

It was just shock.

Dean had just wanted to leave the hospital, couldn't bear it anymore to look at Sam through that window. His cheeks were covered in dried tears, and he didn't even care if anyone saw him like this, standing there in the hallway, his forehead leaned against the cool glass and crying. He didn't care because it was Sam, it was his baby brother, brought into a mental hospital because of hallucinations. Which Sam had had for quite some time, as he had told Dean before, and he hadn't been able to suppress them any more after he had actually listened to Lucifer that one time.

Once before, Dean had thought he had lost his brother to the devil, and it had almost torn him to shreds back then. Luckily, he had had Lisa and Ben to catch and comfort him.

But now?

He was alone, completely and utterly alone. The weight of the world was laying on his shoulders, and though he should have gotten used to that by now, this time there was no one to share it with. Dean had lost everyone, from Mom and Dad back in the day to Bobby and Cas, and now even Sam.

And the Leviathans were still out there.

He couldn't stand it, he just couldn't bear it anymore. 

Sam lay in that sterile and clean white room, clad in white hospital clothing and looking so innocent in his sleep. Not like just hours before, when his eyes were blown wide in terror, screaming from the top of his lungs in pain, large hands holding his head. Just like that, he broke down, the only person Dean had left in his pathetic life, tearing the last steady factor away from him.

The doctors wouldn't let him into the room, because Sam was under strong medication to help him sleep and block his mind. Sam hadn't moved or twitched for a split second, and only the frequent beeping of the machines he was hooked to told Dean he was still alive and breathing. It fucking hurt to see him like this. Sam would get mental treatment once the doctors decided to let him wake up, or so they had told him, and despite the good old Winchester denial system, Dean knew Sam needed it. He had seen what Sam had looked like, what it had done to him, and Sam wasn't in any shape for hunting. In fact, he hadn't been in shape for hunting for the past weeks and months, and Dean had known, he had just ignored it.

And look how that turned out, he thought sarcastically.

That had been the point where he couldn't stand it any more and had fled. Dean had needed some fresh air, he had needed to get out of this clean environment. Damn, he didn't even have a motel room for the night. And he couldn't care less.

With one last, desperate glance at Sam, Dean left the building, slowly stepping down the stairs. He was so fucking tired and weary of it all. Part of him wanted to die, but the other part knew he'll make it through this. Because he always makes it though everything, and right now, he had to be strong for Sam. Had to still be there when Sam woke up.

And there was that man standing by the car, and he looked so oddly familiar. Dean blinked twice before stepping towards him.

“Cas?” he said again, voice breaking in the process.

He turned around, and Dean was immediately shell-shocked. Yes, it was Cas. But he looked wide-eyed at Dean, then turned his head again to look the other way, just to notice that no one was standing behind him.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked back confused, and the gravelly tone of his voice made Dean feel all sorts of weird things. He hadn't heard that voice in a way too long time, and the familiarity of it stirred the first feelings up within him.

Cas watched him carefully, shaking his hand in front of Dean's eyes in an attempt to make him snap out of his daze.

Finally, Dean cleared his throat. “Yes, of course, Cas.”

“How... why do you keep calling me 'Cas'?”

Dean's eyebrows shot towards his hairline in confusion. “Because that's your name?”

“No, it's not. And I don't know you, for that matter. Who are you?”

Dean gaped. He didn't remember? “It's me, Dean.”

Cas eyed him from head to toe. “I don't know any Dean, I'm sorry.”

Dean just stared and stared, he couldn't help it. He was speechless, and shocked, and disappointed.

Cas had apparently sensed or seen it, because he dropped his head onto his chest in defeat with a quiet, sad sigh. “Look... Dean. I'm sorry, really, I am, and if I am supposed to remember you, please bear with me. I suffer from amnesia, I don't know anything since about... one year ago. I lost all other memories. So please believe me if I say I don't want to hurt you.”

“I see,” Dean nodded, digesting the news. Well, that was hard.

“But I get that we knew each other before?”

“Yes, we do,” Dean affirmed, eyes focused on the floor to not show how he really felt. Just the thought that everything of him was gone, that Cas had no memory of everything they did, of everything they lived through together – it was so much, Dean didn't even know where to begin. It hurt to loose a friend, and it hurt even more to have him back without him being your friend any more.

“Look, Dean, I... I mean, I'm trying to find out about my past, but haven't found anyone in this last year who knew me before. So, I know it's late and the fact that you're here at the hospital should mean some serious business and all and... I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I just wanted to ask you if you would like to talk to me, about the past and us and... everything,” Cas said, uncertainly and a little shakily, and Dean could sense it with every word how uncomfortable he was. His Cas had never been uncomfortable in his presence; awkward and nerdy, yes, but not like this.

It hit Dean like a brick that to Cas he was a total stranger. And yet, despite everything that happened – or maybe because everything that happened – he felt obligated to help him. “Yes, of course.”

Castiel nodded with a grateful smile. “Thank you, I appreciate it. When would you like to meet?”

“Actually,” Dean checked his watch. “It's only seven p. m. If you don't plan on going to bed now, I'd have time, and god knows I could use a little distraction.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Cas huffed, and Dean scowled. “You wanna come over to my place? Have coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Where is your car?” Castiel asked, looking around, until his eyes fell onto the black Impala directly parking in front of the car he's standing beside. “Wait,” he said, stepping forward.

Dean watched in amazement as the other man stepped to his car, placing his hand softly on the cold metal and running his hand along the trunk. Cas gasped before he looked back at Dean. “I know this car.”

And for the first time in what felt like ages, a chuckle rippled out of Dean's throat, bubbling up from somewhere Dean had forgot he had. “Of course, how could you forget her?”

“Her...” Cas sighed silently. “She is an exceptional car.”

“Thanks,” he answered, even managing a short, lopsided smile.

A warm, familiar feeling re-appeared within Dean, another thing long forgotten – the affection he held for Castiel back when they were hunting together, when they were Team Free Will, when Cas was still like a brother to him.

“C'mon, let's get going. You drive, I'll follow,” Dean suggested, deliberately breaking the moment.

Castiel turned around, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips, and for a short moment, there was that familiar staring into deep blue eyes, and Dean couldn't help but flinch a little. It was too much for now. Too much for him to handle. He quickly averted his eyes, and Cas got the hint and went back to his car. There wasn't much to say, and they drove off through the small town.

After just a few turns, Castiel's car – a blue Toyota, which Dean screwed up his face at – came to a halt, and Cas left and locked it. Dean parked his baby behind it on the sidewalk and killed the engine.

Wordlessly, the two men met to go upstairs, and when Dean saw Cas' apartment for the first time, all he could think of is: yes, that was it. This was exactly how he pictured Cas' place would look like. Tidy and clean and functional, yet warm and lively.

“Come in, Dean,” Castiel said, heading for the kitchen. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee,” Dean answered with a nod and looked around.

“Living room's that way, make yourself at home!” Cas' voice sounded from the kitchen, accompanied by the coffee machine purring to life.

Dean toed off his boots and put his jacket on the coat rack, before he entered the living room, which was dominated by a small three-seat brown sofa. He sat down and took another look at the TV with the shelves around. It was decorated modestly, and the shelves were stacked with books. Still, it was evident that Cas didn't live here for too long. A few books about medical treatment, especially for people with amnesia were laying around on the coffee table.

He browsed through one of them when Castiel returned with two mugs in his hands. “Milk and sugar?”

“Just sugar, please,” Dean gratefully took the cup from his hands and smiled shortly. “Thank you.”

When Castiel was seated on the couch and had taken a first sip from his coffee, his blue eyes locked with Dean's. The hunter didn't know what to expect, so he waited for a moment, waited for Cas to begin to speak.

“So, I actually don't really know where to begin,” Cas admitted quietly. “Why don't you just tell me why you were at the hospital.”

Dean swallowed. “I was there because of my brother. He had to be checked in yesterday, he had – has – hallucinations. It's a long story, you know. Anyway, why were you there?”

“Daily treatment and meeting with my support group. I still have a lot to attend, and despite the fact that I have been in this clinic for this whole year, they still couldn't figure out why I actually have amnesia. This makes the treatment even more complicated,” Cas explained.

“Where and how did they find you?” Dean asked. Cas looked up, frowning and clearly confused. “I mean, when you regained consciousness. The first thing you remember? You know?”

“I was found laying at the shore of a lake, a few miles into the countryside, with no memories whatsoever. I could talk, strange enough, but I didn't remember anything, not even my name. So when I came to the hospital they called me John Doe, because I didn't even have any ID on me. For the moment, I live by that name. How did you call me before, though?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in that trademark way of his. Dean smiled sadly at the display of old habits.

“I called you Cas,” Dean retorted, surprised by the softness in his voice, “which is short for Castiel.”

“Castiel? Huh. Weird name. What's my surname?” Cas shook his head in confusion.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. Now for the harder part. “You've got none.”

“How do I not have got a surname? Or do you just not know it?”

“No, I mean... I know that you've got no surname. Just Castiel,” Dean answered patiently and waited for the inevitable.

“No person has just a first name and no second,” Cas sighed. “How could that be?”

“Because you're... ugh, okay, Cas... listen, this is hard. This will sound weird as hell, and I'll tell you a lot of things that'll sound weird, but you can believe me, every part of it is true. Sadly.”

Castiel nodded, but Dean could almost see the great, big, blinking question mark above his head.

“It's because you're not a person, by that definition. You're an angel of the lord.”

“I'm what? Are you kidding me?” Cas shouted out in surprise.

“Hell no,” Dean chuckled bitterly.

“There's no such thing as angels,” Cas said.

And Dean full-on laughed at that, laughed how he hadn't for years.

Cas frowned at him. “What's so funny now?”

“This, exactly this sentence,” Dean still laughed, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, “was what I said to you when you told me you were an angel all those years ago.”

Cas swallowed and fell quiet for a few moments.

“How did we get to know each other? What were we to each other?” he asked, sadness in his voice.

Dean sighed. “We were friends for four years. And the story of how we met is actually... Not remotely funny. And very, very weird.”

“C'mon, just tell me and let me judge for myself.”

“You were, and I quote, 'the one who gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.'” Dean even used the air quotation marks on this, which eased the tension that was building up on Castiel's side a bit. “You raised me from hell.”

“Wait, so let me get this straight... I'm an angel and I pulled you out of hell? Why?”

Dean chuckled with his mouth pursed. “Because 'God had plans for me.' You wanna hear the story? The whole, really-fucking-weird story?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas nodded matter-of-factly and frowned.

“Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. For starters, I've lost my mum when I was four years old. I've got a younger brother, his name is Sam-” Dean looked up at Cas for any reaction, but apparently, the name didn't ring any bells, “Sam and I are hunters. We hunt supernatural creatures, like demons and dschinns and pagan gods and so on.”

Cas' eyes widened.

“And to make a long story short, it began with Sam dying because of the yellow-eyed demon's – Azazael's – stupid plan to host a supernatural version of 'American Idol'. Namely, he searched for the next demon leader. Sam had been thrown in there and got killed. I couldn't stand it, I just had lost my dad a few months back, and Sam was all the family I had left, and besides – he's my brother, I practically raised him. I'd do anything for him. We grew up on the road, our Dad kept hunting the demon that killed our mother – Azazael, the one I mentioned before. But I digress. I saved Sam by making a deal with a crossroads demon. Usually, a deal like this gives you ten years to live, before your soul is collected and thrown to hell. I, because I was responsible for Azazael's death and all, only got one year, but it was good enough as long as I got Sammy back. In the year that followed, we tried desperately to find a way out of my contract, but failed, and I was killed and went to hell.... that's were you enter the stage,” Dean took a long breath after that speech and drank from his cup of coffee.

“Wow,” was all Castiel answered, but he seemed to believe Dean. “Okay. That's... wow.”

“We met, as I said, about four years ago. We summoned you to a barn, and the first thing I did when I saw you was stab you with a demon knife,” Dean couldn't suppress the chuckle at the memory of those blue eyes looking at him completely unimpressed and pulling the knife back out, letting it drop to the floor.

“Because you thought I was a demon?”

“Yes, because usually only demons can bring someone back to life. For the record, we didn't know about angels until then. Not until you. You stepped in there, pulled the knife back out and... said those exact lines I told you before. I asked who you were, you said 'I'm Castiel, I'm an angel of the lord.' And when I asked who you really were, you said 'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.' You even left a mark of your hand on my shoulder from that particular episode, but it vanished after you healed me some time later.”

“So angels can heal people?” 

Dean nodded. “Yes, and themselves. That's why the knife didn't bother you. Didn't you notice any strange abilities you have? Snapping things out of thin air? Something like that?”

“No, not really,” Castiel retorted, snipping his fingers and staring at the table, where- nothing happened. “The only thing that comes to mind is that I don't get sick. Like, at all.”

“Huh,” Dean just said intelligently. “So you've apparently gone human completely.”

“What does that mean? Is there a way to not get completely, but partly human?”

“Yes, there is. You once had lost all your angel-mojo due to being cut off from heaven,” Dean huffed.

“Why was I cut off from heaven?”

“You rebelled.”

“Why did I rebell?” Cas eyes were blown wide in confusion.

Dean swallowed and avoided Cas' eyes as he answered. “You rebelled because of me.”

“What did you do?” The questions just kept coming.

“The question is rather... what didn't I do. Sam and I were supposed to be the respective vessel for an angel. And if we had said yes – because an angel needs your consent to take over your body – the apocalypse would have happened. I was supposed to be Michael's vessel, Sam was supposed to be Lucifer's. We kept resisting until the end, and despite heaven's orders and despite destiny had been written otherwise, you were on our side. That's why you rebelled and were cut off, because you chose free will instead of orders,” Dean chuckled fondly. “Back then, I once called us 'Team Free Will.' Sam, the ex-blood-junkie, you, Mr Comatose, and me, highschool dropout with 6 bucks to his name.”

“Why was Sam an ex-blood-junkie?”

And so it went on, Dean explaining all the way through the story of Lillith and the seals, Ruby and Sam and the demon blood, Sam killing ruby, starting the apocalypse, how Zachariah wanted to push Dean to say yes-

“Who's Zachariah?”

“Your superior. Doesn't mean he's a better guy, he actually was more like a massive pain in the ass. One of the angels that defined to me that angels are dicks,” Dean stated dryly.

“So there's more angels? Why didn't some of them rescue me? Or tell me or... do something?” Cas asked further.

“Most of them – or, make that all of them as far as we knew them – are dead. There were Michael and Lucifer, both locked in the cage now, and Raphael, Balthazar, Rachel, Anna, Uriel, Gabriel – all of them dead. And Zachariah, the dick, goes to my account.” He quietly pondered before adding, “Yes, I think that were all. Any names there that ring any bells?”

“Well, apart from the usual knowledge of the bible... I don't know. I have to think about this,” Castiel answered thoughtfully. “That is some seriously heavy stuff you've been through.”

We've been through, Dean wanted to correct him. But this wasn't the Cas that was with him all this time. This wasn't the Cas that had- oh god, yes. How could he forget. “Yeah, it was kinda heavy, but we had our moments. You know, one evening you made us getting kicked out of a brothel for calling out one of the hookers – Chastity was her name, by the way, fucking hilarious – on her daddy issues.”

Dean laughed and Cas followed with a deep, rolling sound that Dean hadn't heard ever before. “Great. More stories of that kind?”

“When one of the four horsemen, namely famine, appeared during our tour to prevent the apocalypse, you shoveled a couple hundred bacon cheeseburgers into you,” Dean chuckled.

Cas laughed even more, and the sound of it made Dean smile. He wanted to hear more of it.

“We once had a chat on the phone while standing merely inches apart.”

The soft, bubbling laughter ebbed away into a sad smile. “It must hurt you that I don't remember any of this, Dean, but... I dunno, maybe it helps me remember. I have no idea what caused my amnesia, I'm still trying to figure it out. Either way, I'm happy to have met you again. And I am terribly sad to hear that I miss out on many good and meaningful memories. I wish I could remember,” he said bitterly.

Dean quietly stated to himself that he better not remembered everything. Because that would include civil war in heaven, working with Crowley, Superman going dark side and Leviathans. And pain, lots of pain for both of them, and Dean didn't want that. For a moment, Dean just wanted to enjoy what he had. He had regained a friend, he had the chance to start anew. There was that initial amount of trust that only Cas managed to stir up within him, and it had been there since Dean had him seen standing beside the Toyota.

Then suddenly, Cas looked up to meet Dean's eyes, and this time it was different. He leaned slightly forward into Dean's personal space – so that hadn't changed as well – and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder. Slightly confused by the unexpected closeness, Dean squirmed a bit back, but Castiel just watched him.

“Now that I properly see you, I feel like I... like I know you. I didn't remember your name, but now- it's weird. Like I've seen you before.”

A soft thumb rubbed along Dean's cheek before the hand was withdrawn. “But you're not my ex-boyfriend or something, are you?”

Dean shook his head vehemently. “God, no. We never had something like that going on. Just friends.” Always just friends. “But, Cas... listen, it's late. I probably should get going, find a motel for the night.”

“Oh no, forget it. If we've been friends for years, it's the least I can do to offer you my couch to crash on. Please, Dean. It's no problem, really. And you don't have to go far to the hospital to see Sam.”

Dean watched him carefully, not sure if it was okay.

“Dean,” Cas said insistently. “Please. Stay a little longer. I want to get to know you, want to hear more of us and the past and all. I want to fix things. Please give me the chance to.”

“Okay, then I guess I can't say no,” Dean answered with a short grin. “Let me just grab my duffel bag from the car, I'll be right back.”

The rest of the story, the dark part, still lay heavy on his mind when Dean went down to his car to get the bag. And he knew he had to tell Cas at some point, but it would be difficult, to say the least.

When he returned, he found Castiel standing in the door to the bathroom, only dressed in pajama pants and brushing his teeth. Pushing the heavier thoughts to the back of his mind, Dean gave him a short smile and made his way to the living room. He quietly changed into pajamas before joining Cas in the bathroom.

Dean didn't know if it was just sleepiness taking over or his mind playing tricks on him, but standing here and looking at them in the mirror made him think, if in another lifetime, another universe, it could have worked this way. A simple life, a sleepover at a friend's place, drinking beer and talking and watching football all night. But it seemed like the Winchesters weren't supposed to lead a happy life. Even now that he had Cas back, Dean knew that he couldn't expect everything to get better, because it never worked that way.

Of course, there was still Sam laying in the hospital.

He sighed heavily, and Cas caught his eyes in the mirror for a split second, before he bent down to spit out the foam. Dean pushed the thoughts aside.

A few minutes later, Dean had settled onto the couch, covered in a soft blanket that smelled oddly like Castiel. Who stood in the door and looked down at him, waiting for Dean so he could turn off the lights.

Dean nodded, feeling how he got sleepier by the second. He hadn't slept on a decent bed in ages, and this couch was too comfortable to be true. “Thanks, Cas,” he said quietly to the man in the door frame.

“Don't mention it. It's the least I can do. I'll have to work tomorrow, but feel free to leave for the hospital whenever you want. I'll leave the spare key at the table by the door.”

Surprised, Dean blinked at him. “You're giving me a key to your place?”

“Well, of course. We're friends, right? Or we were friend. And call me crazy, but I feel it, somehow, and I trust you. You are a good man, Dean Winchester.”

Dean huffed sarcastically but said nothing.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas' gravelly voice sounded from the door after he had shut off the lights in the living room.

“'Night, Cas,” Dean mumbled into the pillow he was resting on.

Soft padding sounds and the click of a door followed, and Dean wondered if he should laugh or cry or both. He settled for sleep, in the end.

***

When Dean woke up, it was oddly enough still night, and the room was dark, only slightly dipped in pale moon light. He shot up to a sitting position, breathing heavily.

Another nightmare. They became more and more frequent during the past weeks. He had never told Sam about them, the guy had enough problems with his own mental health. 

The nightmares were always the same. He saw Cas, slowly walking into the lake, followed by Bobby on the bed in the hospital, closing his eyes forever, and this was usually followed by Sam getting killed or dying in some kind of way. The newest picture was the one that had shaped itself deep into Dean's mind – Sam, in a white room, clad in white, on a white bed, machines all around him, dying. Just a single beeping tone ringing through the hallway where Dean stood at the window, watching helplessly through the thick glass, crying, shouting for some help, but no one would show up.

His skin was cold and damp from sweat.

Another nightmare.

Dean rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. “It gets better. Yeah, my ass,” he whispered quietly to himself before getting up. Still drowsy, Dean stepped towards the kitchen to get a glass and water from the tab. Leaning against the counter and staring at the window, where the nightlife of the small town pulsed through the streets, flashing lights and signs everywhere. People were walking down the street, careless and laughing happily.

Dean wondered if he would ever be allowed to do something like that again. Just go out, get wasted, stumble home with a friend and his brother leaning against him at 4 a. m. and falling into bed without having to care for the world's fate.

He was so fucking tired, but he knew he would re-live that same nightmare again if he went to sleep now.

Soft footsteps made him look to the door, where Cas leaned shortly against the frame, perception lighting up in his puffy eyes once he saw Dean. Then he strolled towards Dean, got a glass of water for himself, and leaned against the counter beside Dean.

They didn't talk for minutes, just stood there in comfortable, companionable silence.

After countless moments, Dean sighed quietly, and Cas looked up at him, their eyes meeting in the process.

“You alright?” Dean asked.

“Yes, just a nightmare,” Cas answered shrugging. “Happens frequently.”

Dean nodded, looking back into his own glass and wishing it was a fifth of whiskey. Or make that two.

“Same with me.”

“What do you dream about?” Cas raised an eyebrow at him, which Dean could see fairly well from the corner of his eye.

“Bobby's death,” Dean answered, swallowing heavily. He had mentioned Bobby to Cas before, explained how he had been the closest he had to a father.

“How did he die?”

“Bullet to the brain.” Saying it like that, it sounded so simple. And incredibly real.

“I'm sorry,” Cas said quietly, nudging his shoulder against Dean's, a motion that made Dean smile bitterly. The old Cas would never have done something like that. But then again, he was through a lot, had had a lot of meetings where he surely had come into a situation or two where he had to comfort someone else. “No angel available to bring him back?”

Dean shook his head quietly. “You were already gone at the time. Which I also see again and again. Plus, lately, I see my brother die in that hospital.”

There was a short silence before Cas spoke up again. “How did I die?” he eventually asked, his voice low and barely audible.

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat, but to no avail. His chest clenched at the thought, at everything that happened... Cas' desperate look when he apologized to Dean, how broken he was, how broken Dean was when he thought that he had lost Cas then and there... and then the Leviathans, and the lake and-

No, he couldn't do this. “I'm sorry, Cas, I can't,” he said, covering his eyes with his hand in an attempt to hold back the tears that tried to well up.

“It's okay,” Cas responded, leaning slightly against him again, “I understand.”

Surprised Dean looked at him.

Cas nodded reassuringly. “I do. Look, Dean, I'm not blind. I see that something happened, more than you told me. Heavier stuff, darker stuff. With what happened before in your life and the apocalypse and all... I just... I know there is more. I know you can't talk about it now, and I understand. But if you will be able to eventually, then I'll be right here.”

Dean hadn't noticed the tears running down his cheeks until a wet drop made its way to his lips, rolling across it. “Thanks, Cas,” he managed to choke out.

And because Cas wasn't the Cas Dean knew any more, he leaned into Dean's space to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him into a hug.

Dean's breath hitched for a second. There hadn't been anyone in a long time who treated him like this. Sure, Sam cared, and Bobby had cared, and Frank and Jodie, in their own way, but not that easy, not like this. There he thought he had lost one of the best friends he had ever had, and still, Cas was here now. Out of reflex or just the need to feel another human's touch, Dean put the half-full glass of water aside and wrapped his arms around Cas' waist, leaning down to rest his head at the smaller man's shoulder.

He had been strong for months, because he had to be strong. For Sam, for Bobby, for everyone. He had been nothing but the shell that once was Dean Winchester, lady's man, hunter, caring big brother. Everything had broken down inside him, and he couldn't tell anyone about it. All his life he had been his little brother's protector, even more so after John had passed away. All his life he had watched out for others, and yet, everything had gone downhill from there. He felt useless, had felt so for a while, because everything he touched he wasn't able to save, no matter how much he tried and wanted to.

Cas' other hand came up to lay in his neck, hold him close, fingers trailing through the short hair on the back of his neck. It was soothing and gentle and Dean didn't feel like he deserved to be cared for like that. His defense had been maintained and build up carefully, especially during the past few months and years, and the wall in his mind, that separated him from his feelings and the part that would drive him crazy once he would let it in, was strong.

Yet, here and now, in this soothing hug he hadn't expected in any way, Dean broke down. Allowed himself to be his broken self, allowed himself to cry, because it was Cas. And even though Cas was the one who had his own mental problems, his amnesia and all, Cas was there for him, unconditionally. It was like their 'profound bond' had resurfaced unconsciously, like it never broke.

'Damnit, Cas, we can fix this.' - 'Dean, it's not broken.' echoed bitterly in his ears.

The wall crumbled to dust, and Dean found himself shaking and crying for countless minutes. He had no idea how he should ever make it, how he would ever be able to fix the mess that was his life. How he should be strong for Sam, who had even more serious problems than Dean had for himself. How he should stop the Leviathans. How he should rescue the world for the umpteenth time. All he knew was that he couldn't do it alone.

So they stood like that in the kitchen for a long time, Dean's hands clutching desperately onto Castiel's bare back and Castiel's hands on the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles onto the skin. It felt good to finally let go, even if it was ten times of cheesy and girly, but damnit, Dean was sick and tired of playing strong.

When he eventually managed to get his shit together, Dean leaned back and let his hands drop, immediately missing the warmth of Cas' body against his.

“That's a first, you know?” Dean said, his voice rasp and rough from crying, and he had to look like shit right now. His eyes hurt.

“Me hugging you?” Cas asked back, bewildered.

“Us hugging at all.”

“I thought we were friends for years? How come we never hugged?” Cas narrowed his eyes and shook his head. 

“We just didn't,” Dean broke their eye contact to look out the window for a second, to chicken-shit to admit that he had been to proud to do it. Because he always thought he would make it alone, and because he had taken Cas for granted. He huffed at the thought.

Cas stepped up beside him, nudging their shoulders lightly before he spoke again. “You know, I've been attending the support group for people suffering from amnesia for pretty much all this year now. You learn a lot about listening and comforting others there. A lot of them have problems to deal with other family members, who are challenged by them not remembering key situations in their relationship, in their life. There are a lot of hurt feelings involved, because it just hurts if someone, for instance, can't remember the day of your marriage anymore. They often feel helpless, both sides, and the best way to deal with it, is trying to understand. And listen to the other one, and comforting him. A hug is the least you can do for anybody, and we often do it during meetings, just to reassure each other. It was harder for me, because I had no one, just myself to deal with. There was no one in my life who could tell me what I missed – hell, there wasn't anyone who could tell me what my name was. I was John for a year now, and now I'm suddenly 'Cas' again.”

Dean swallowed. “It must be hard.”

“It is, but it's only as hard as we make it. And now that you're here, even though you've got your own problems to deal with, I feel like-” Cas stopped mid-sentence, sighing and dropping his head to stare to the floor.

Dean turned his head to look at him, the familiar expression of confusion in Cas' face. They had spent years with each other, through good and bad times, so of course he knew Cas. And of course he would do anything to help him.

“What I'm intending to say,” Cas starts anew, “is that I need you right now, and it seems like you could really need a friend in your life as well. So I hope that despite everything that happened, and I include the part I don't know about, that there's still a spot for me in your life.”

Dean felt tears prickling up in his eyes again, but this time, they were not because of hurt and how fucked up his life is, but from fondness and, yes, joy. Without much thinking, Dean reached out to pull Castiel into his arms once more. It isn't as tight and desperate as before, but soft and gentle as Dean leaned his back against the counter, Cas standing between his legs without pressing into his body, just standing there and enjoying.

For a moment, Dean was happy.

But there was still Sam, and Dean sighed.

Cas jolted slightly, his arms twitching when he felt Dean's discomfort, and he whispered into Dean's ear, “If you don't want to go to the hospital alone tomorrow, wait until I'm back from work and we can go together,” he offered.

“Dude, can you read my mind?” Dean couldn't help but chuckle.

Cas just huffed, his warm breath hitting the shell of Dean's ear.

“And you seriously telling me you don't have any angel mojo going on anymore?”

“What, can angels read minds?” Cas retorted in surprise.

“They're fucking angels, they can do pretty much everything. Against pulling people out of hell, mind-reading seems kinda minor, don't you think?” Dean answered amused. Everything about this was so innocent that it made him smile. A genuine, heartfelt smile, the first one that didn't hurt at the same time.

“Okay, point taken,” Castiel said. “You wanna go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, but then realized something else. “You couldn't sleep as well, right? Nightmares as well?”

Cas sighed. “Yes, often. For the first few months, I had to take medication so I could sleep at night at all, but that was when I was back in the hospital and under supervision. After I moved into this apartment three months back, I didn't want to depend on them any more, and stopped to take the pills. I take enough other stuff already, and the nightmares don't happen as frequent as before anymore.”

“Tonight?” Dean asked quietly, almost whispering.

“Yes,” Cas swallowed, which Dean could feel by his Adam's apple bopping up and down against his shoulder.

“What about?”

“A lot. Sometimes I think they're flashbacks, like my lost memory is locked somewhere inside my head, and resurfaces only during those nightmares. That's the reason I remembered your car, I dreamed about it the night before.”

“Something else? Or what was it this night exactly?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Saw your face, all beaten-up, and I touched your cheek, and then you were yourself again. And the Impala was in there, too. Just that glimpse, then it was back to the usual night terrors. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before, though,” Cas said, head still rested against Dean's shoulder.

Dean cleared his throat. “It is definitely a memory, Cas. That was the day we stopped the apocalypse. Sam- no, Lucifer in that moment, possessing Sam, had beaten me up that bad, and when Sam saw the car, he managed to push Lucifer back within his mind and jump into the pit... And then you were back, raised by what we thought was God, because it couldn't be anyone else.”

“I was dead?”

Dean laughed silently. “You died three times for us, Cas.”

“Tell me.”

“The first time, you protected Chuck, the prophet, from Raphael, while we were busy with Lilith. Blew you up, but you returned, probably because of God – we still don't know. Second time, it was during that apocalypse I just told you... The third time was the one you lost your memory,” Dean said heavily, not wanting to explain it any further.

Cas pursed his lips and pulled away. Momentarily shocked that he had hurt Cas, Dean watched him carefully, but Castiel only turned to the cupboard to get two mugs. Then he started to refill the electric water jug and turned it on.

“Tea?” Dean asked, both eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline.

“Tea,” Cas nodded. “Peppermint or fruit tea?”

“Don't you have... beer or whiskey or something like that?”

Cas turned towards him and frowned deeply. “Dean, I don't have alcohol in my house. It may help to make you sleep, but when you're drunk, your sleep will not nearly be as refreshing. It's not good for your health anyway, and if you drink yourself to sleep, that surely isn't a solution. I discovered that tea was a much better idea. So, peppermint or fruit tea?”

“Peppermint,” Dean said quietly. He hadn't had tea since... ever. Dean Winchester didn't drink tea.

But maybe Cas was right. While Dean watched him take two tea bags and placing them in the mug, then adding a spoonful of honey to each and pouring hot water over them, he pondered about Cas' words from before.

“You said you had to work in the morning. Where do you even work? I think we didn't talk about that yet.”

Cas chuckled and handed one of the cups to Dean. “I'm flipping burgers at McDonalds. Pays the bills. I only work part-time, though, for a start. Maybe they let me stock up to full time in a few months, but we'll see.”

“How long will you work tomorrow? Uhm- today, I mean,” Dean asked, turning around to sit down at the small kitchen table. Cas flopped down on the chair opposite of him.

“From six to twelve. We can go visit Sam afterwards, if you want me to accompany you.”

“Yeah, that'd be great,” Dean admitted, toying around with the tea bag in his mug, absent-mindedly stirring his tea. He didn't know if he could stand the picture of his brother in that sterile white room again. It had almost made him break down yesterday. And having Cas with him at least gave him some kind of confidence.

They sat in silence, occasionally sipping at their mugs, but not looking at each other. It wasn't uncomfortable. For once, Dean felt save, even without a devil's trap and line of salt at the door. Or a bottle of borax beside his bed. His gun, and he had to think hard to remember, was somewhere on the bottom of his duffel bag. And he didn't care.

Suddenly feeling the need to, Dean broke the silence to tell Cas, “I promise I'll tell you what happened. Not today, but I will.”

“Sure. Like I said, I'll wait. I know there's history to us, and I know it's not easy for you either.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean responded quietly. And before he realized what happened, Castiel reached over the table to cover Dean's hand with his, squeezing softly.

So the new Cas was a lot more touchy-feely than Dean had thought. It made him smile, though.

“What?” Castiel asked in wonder.

“You changed.”

That was answered with a trademark head tilt, and Dean grinned at that.

“How did I change?”

“Back when we met, you were all serious and acting like you had a stick up your ass. After a few months, and after you rebelled, it got better, but you were still someone who couldn't so much as smile at something funny. Your social skills were equal to zero. But that's just how you were. And you know what?”

“Huh?”

“When Zachariah threw me five years into the future, and I saw what you would become – human, some kind of love guru, constantly stoned and a bad caricature of the serious angel you once were – then I knew that I didn't ever want you to change, and I told you so immediately after I got back. You just looked at me incredulously.”

Cas chuckled. “So, what about the person I am now?”

Despite himself, Dean felt a smile curl up the edges of his lips. “I think I could get used to the way you are.” Cas tilted his head once again. Before he could say anything, Dean added. “That, what you did just now, that cocking your head to the side, is something you always did,” he grinned.

Cas reciprocated the grin before he got serious again. “You know, I can't fight the feeling that we had just the right timing to meet again.”

“That may be true,” Dean said, finishing his tea. Oddly enough, the tea made him feel warm from the inside, without the burning, bitter sensation that whiskey usually left in his mouth. He felt the incredible tiredness creep up once again.

Castiel had finished his beverage as well and got to his feet. “We've got an hour left until I have to get up for work. Let's get a few more minutes of sleep, okay?”

Dean nodded and followed him out of the kitchen. There were so many things he'd like to tell him right now, but none of them seemed to form into words in his mouth. So he just nodded. “Good night, Cas.”

“See you in the morning,” the other man answered and padded off to his bedroom.

Dean couldn't remember the last time he fell asleep so fast.

***

Still drowsy, but more rested than he had felt for quite some time, Dean woke up from Cas' alarm clock going off an hour later. He had always been a light sleeper, so no surprise there. And he knew it would be senseless if he tried to fall asleep again, now that Cas would be up and getting ready for work.

Dean sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes.

Soft footsteps across the hall told him that Castiel had just made his way to the bathroom. He waited for the click of the door before getting up and entering the kitchen. A short look into the fridge told him... not much. Eggs were there, and some leftover bacon, and that was about it. Dean began to search for a frying pan and stumbled across a coffee caddy and filters.

He decided to set up some coffee first, and filled the water tank and then the filter with coffee powder before pushing the power button of the machine. Right then, Cas stepped into the room. Well, more like leaned against the door frame, just like he had when he entered during the night.

“Morning,” he said, his voice deep as usual, but slightly roughened from sleep.

“Mornin',” Dean answered, quirking a short smile at him before turning to the kitchen table and carrying their tea mugs to the sink, where he washed them clean.

“You making breakfast?” Cas asked, quite happy to see Dean like that.

“Sure, the least I can do,” Dean said quietly. “I was thinking scrambled eggs and bacon.”

“I usually have toast, because I don't trust myself with the stove in the morning, but I surely won't say no to that,” Cas rubbed his eyes before running his hand through his already tousled hair. “Thanks, Dean. I'll go shower.”

Dean smiled a bit lopsided to himself. So Cas was not much of a morning person. Huh.

The frying pan was found quickly, and by the time Castiel returned from the bathroom, freshly showered and his hair carefully arranged – funny enough, Dean noted, just the way Jimmy had preferred it, the way Cas had always maintained his vessel. Anyway, by the time Cas returned, Dean had their breakfast ready, and they both sat down at the kitchen table to eat.

There wasn't much to talk about, the heavy weight still laying on Dean's mind, but at least eased a bit by their conversation at night.

Cas took a good mouthful of his coffee before he looked up and said, “I'll return from work around half past twelve. Then we can visit Sam. Is that okay with you?”

Dean nodded, chewing his scrambled eggs and bacon, but didn't say anything in response.

“Make yourself at home in the meantime, and feel free to use the TV or anything you want.”

“I will. Thanks,” Dean answered quietly, already knowing what he'll do once Cas would be out.

After breakfast, they did the dishes in mutual agreement, and then Cas grabbed his keys and jacket. “Here's the spare key,” he said, handing a spare key to Dean, who accepted it gratefully.

“Take care,” Dean wished him goodbye to work. “I'll see you for lunch.”

“See you,” Cas said simply and headed down the stairs.

Dean took a deep breath. He knew that Cas wasn't that naïve any more, and it was a great step to trust him with the key. Well, it wasn't like he wanted to take advantage of him. So Dean went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed before reading the local newspaper he found in Cas' mail. As far as he could tell, there was nothing suspicious going on around here. And particularly nothing maybe-Leviathan-related.

By then, it was already 8 a. m., and Dean headed out for some grocery shopping. It felt utterly strange to do something that... mundane. It felt so normal, like the kind of thing he did when he was still living with Lisa and Ben. But, yeah, 'normal' had its perks.

As Castiel's fridge had been mostly empty, Dean got pretty much all the basic stuff, bread, cheese, some sausages, bacon and eggs, as he had used them up for their breakfast, cereal and milk and some sweets. And, for good measure, a bottle of Borax-containing detergent. If Cas let him stay with him, he could at least pay him back like that.

When he opened the trunk of his baby to fit the groceries in there, he found something he thought he had long since forgotten, and an idea hit him.

The rest of the morning and noon, Dean spent with watching sports on TV and prepared some sandwiches for when Cas would come home from work.

God, life as a house wife had to be boring. Dean even began to clean up Cas' living room, until finally, at exactly half past twelve, the front door was opened with a click, immediately followed by a familiar voice. “Dean?”

“Living room,” Dean answered.

“Hey,” Cas said, poking his head through the door.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, “I made some lunch for us, would you get it from the fridge?”

“Sure,” Cas nodded, disappearing to get rid of his jacket. When he returned, he held the plate with the two sandwiches on it in his hands. “Thanks for doing the grocery shopping, Dean.”

“Hey, if I'm staying here with you, I can at least contribute to the living expenses.”

They ate in silence while a re-run of some football game flickered over the TV. Dean didn't even watch closely, because he admittedly felt a bit nervous. He had something planned, and he didn't know how it would turn out.

When they had finished up, Dean took a long swig of a bottle of water he had bought that morning, before he turned to Cas. “Cas, can we talk?”

“Sure,” Castiel said, focusing on him while shutting off the TV with the remote.

“I meant to give you something, and explain something along to it,” Dean began slowly, taking a deep breath. Then he reached beside the couch for the bundle of tan fabric laying there. Cas tilted his head to the side, wondering what Dean did. Dean stood up and unfolded the cloth, revealing Cas' tan trench coat, the one he had pulled out of the water that day.

“What is this?” Cas asked confused.

“Yours,” Dean managed to choke out, but felt the tears welling up in his eyes once more. Goddamn, he was turning into a fucking girl over this. Sam would laugh at him.

“Mine?”

Dean nodded, rubbing over his eyes with the back of his hand. “C'mere and try it on. It'll fit perfectly.”

Castiel got to his feet and stepped towards Dean, who held the coat so that Cas could slip it on easily. And when Cas turned around slowly, realizing how the coat fit perfectly on his shoulders, hugged his shape in that familiar way, Dean couldn't help it. Tears slipped down his cheeks, if he wanted them to or not. One thought was burning painfully in the back of his mind, despite the fact that he knew it wasn't entirely true.

He had his angel back.

Only that this Cas didn't wear a cheap tax account suit and no never-straight blue tie underneath the coat. Dean blinked through his tears to look at Castiel, who stood still in front of him, empathy shining in his eyes. “A lot of memories to that coat, huh?” he asked quietly.

“You have no idea,” Dean choked out.

Without another word, Cas stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders. Shaking his head slightly, Dean tried to pull himself together, but to no avail. There was so much undercurrent to all this, so much Cas couldn't know. Maybe it was time to talk about it.

Still shaking from head to toe and chin rested on Castiel's shoulder, Dean began to talk, quiet and his voice unstable. But he managed. “I pulled that trench coat out of the water of that lake they found you at. You were... not yourself. You were driven by some pretty nasty souls... Leviathans. Water demons. They made you walk into the lake, and we thought you exploded, because there was one big wave of black goo. That was the Leviathans spreading out through the water, into the water system, and... anyway, the coat is all that was left of you. I found it on the shore, and kept it all the time, all those months. Saw it in the trunk today when I went shopping and decided you should have it back.”

“Dean...” Cas just said, and Dean didn't need to hear any more. He knew that Cas was speechless right now.

Dean pulled away from the hug and sniffed. Quietly, Cas reached under the couch table and handed a packet of paper tissues to him, which Dean accepted gratefully. “I cry a fucking lot around you,” he snorted after blowing his nose.

Cas chuckled bitterly. “You've got your reasons. So, should we go to the hospital now?”

“Yeah, let me just get to the bathroom first,” Dean nodded, heading out of the room to splash some cold water onto his face. At least his eyes wouldn't look as red and puffy then.

Castiel already waited for him at the door when Dean returned, ready to go. On some mutual understanding, they took Dean's car, and drove to the hospital, the ride barely lasting longer than a few minutes.

It was hard to go in there again, and if it wasn't for Sam, Dean wouldn't probably do it at all. They made their way up to the third floor, where Sam's room had been the night before, and the nurse that was on duty today didn't know Dean. After quickly introducing himself and Castiel, she led them to the window.

Dean swallowed hard. Sam still lay on the bed, unmoving, and the doctor who stood beside him only looked up from his clipboard when the nurse walked into the room to him. She pointed shortly towards the window, where Dean gave a short wave as matter-of-greeting. He nodded, his gaze still resting on Dean and Castiel.

She poked her head through the door then. “You may come in.”

Fighting down the overwhelming feeling of panic and helplessness, Dean stepped towards the door. Cas apparently sensed what was up with him and patted him shortly on the back encouragingly. Dean shot him a short look over his shoulder in a silent thank-you.

“Doctor,” Dean said, noticing how broken his voice sounded and immediately clearing his throat.

“Mr. Winchester, I've been told?” the doctor answered, eyeing Dean from head to toe.

“Yes, I'm Sam's brother. This is a friend of ours,” Dean explained and pointed towards Cas. “So, how is he doing?”

He could barely wait for the answer, and the fact that the first thing he got as a response was a deep sigh didn't really calm Dean's nerves. Eventually, the doctor began, “He holds up good, considering the circumstances. Currently, he's still under strong medication so he can at least sleep and rest. All signs point towards the fact that he has suffered from extreme sleep deprivation, and that isn't even healthy for someone without mental problems. So you may say we let him sleep it off for the moment. We're watching his brain waves to be sure that he hasn't got any nightmares, but his medication should be enough to keep those off, too. We intend to wake your brother up tomorrow and start working with him.”

Dean nodded, a bit absent-minded, eyes focused on Sam. He looked so peaceful. Dean couldn't remember seeing him that relaxed for way too long.

“Could you tell me about his state of mind before he broke down?” the doctor asked.

Dean pondered whether or not to tell him at least part of the truth. They needed something to work with. But if the doctors could even fix this, this whole mess that was Sam's soul, Dean didn't know, he could only hope. Hope was a rare thing these days, though.

“He had hallucinations. At first he thought he was in hell and tortured by Lucifer, and then he started seeing Lucifer, in person, in the same room as us, talking to him. He managed to cut it out by pushing at an old scar he got on his hand from cutting it on a shard of glass. I told him once he should hold on to that, that the pain would make him realize what was reality and what wasn't. That apparently didn't work any more, and, well, then there was the break down,” Dean explained, feeling the doctor's and Cas' eyes resting on him. Cas didn't know much more than this, and Dean had just revealed quite a lot about Sam.

Castiel suddenly stepped away from Dean and towards the bed, silently looking down at Sam. An IV had been stuck in his arm, and multiple sensors were attached all over his body – above his heart, around his finger, on his head. A stubble had grown on his face and made him look much older than his actual 28 years. Dean watched Cas carefully when he bent down slightly to lay a hand against Sam's cheek, nuzzling it softly.

Dean didn't know how much Cas remembered, if he recognized Sam's face as he had recognized his, but the motion was so caring and soft that he had to tear his eyes away and pull himself together again.

The doctor was still taking notes on his clipboard. “Anything more?”

“No, not really,” Dean said quietly. Oh, there was a lot more. There was just no way he would tell the doc about it.

“I hope you understand that you can't visit him during the next few days. As I said, we'll wake him up tomorrow, and we'll have to rule everything out that could be a trigger to him, which includes you. We'll call you every day and tell you how he is, if you wish that. But at least until we figured a few things out, we need him to be alone and unaffected by his surroundings.”

Dean nodded in understanding, although it hurt. “Yes, please call me. And let me know when we can see him again.”

“I'll let you know everything important. If you want to spend a few minutes in here, no problem. Don't touch any of the machines, though. You've got five minutes,” and with that, the doctor left the room and shut the door, leaving the nurse to watch them through the window.

Thoughtfully, Dean stepped up beside Cas and looked down at his brother.

“I hope he's gonna be alright soon,” Cas said silently.

“I wish I could hope that,” Dean huffed. “There is so much broken in his mind, I don't know if the doctors here are in any way capable of fixing it.”

“Which part didn't you tell them?” Cas asked carefully.

There was a short beat, and after a deep breath, Dean spoke low, “The part where Sam went to hell in order to prevent the apocalypse, and got resurrected immediately. Only that it was just his body that came back, lacking a soul. We found out about that roughly a year later, and by the time we managed to get his soul back as well, one and a half years had gone by. Death, one of the four horsemen, put it back into him and set up a 'wall', to prevent Sam from the memories of his soul. Because his soul was very damaged, having spent all this time in the cage with Lucifer and Michael, who constantly tortured him. And Lucifer had been hunting him ever since Sam was forced to break down the wall. Or something like that. I have no idea how he even lived during those last few months. Which is the part I already told the doc.”

Dean reached for Sam's hand out of reflex, squeezing it tightly before letting go and laying it carefully back down beside his body.

“Oh,” Castiel stated simply. “I... don't really know what to say to that. At least I understand why you aren't sure if the doctors can fix him.”

“It's okay. Let's go home,” Dean responded quietly.

With one last, worried glance at his brother, Dean turned around, intending to head for the door. Only with his hand on the doorknob he noticed that Cas hadn't followed him.

“What's up?”

“... you said 'home',” Cas said, avoiding his gaze and toeing at the floor.

Dean blinked. Once, twice. “Yeah, I did. Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“No, no,” Castiel interrupted him quickly. “I actually... am a bit amused about your use of words. It's okay, though.” Slight amusement swung indeed in his voice, but he didn't smile. Dean noted it gratefully. He really didn't want to joke around in the face of this horrible situation, in front of Sam. “Let's go home,” Cas added.

They left the room together.

***

That night – after they had spent a pretty quiet evening together, ordering pizza from a nearby place and watching TV – Dean had hoped that he might get to sleep a bit more than the night before. At least, he had fallen asleep instantly, and tried not to worry about Sam. They would call him. Cas had bid him good night and left for his own bedroom, and Dean was pretty sure he didn't even hear the click of his door falling shut.

Dean was woken by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him softly.

“Huh? What is it?” he shot up from the couch, immediately reaching for his duffel with the weapons.

Cas was quicker, though. “Shh, Dean. It's just me. Nothing's wrong.”

Focusing on the dark-haired man in front of him who held him back with both hands on his shoulders, Dean relaxed slowly. After a deep sigh, he let himself fall back onto the pillow. “Okay... okay. What is it, though?” It was still very obviously in the middle of the night, a short look at his cell told him 3 a. m.

“You were making a lot of noise and you sounded frightened, so I came over. Seems like you had another nightmare,” Cas said, worry obvious in his tone.

“Yeah, I had. Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, I was already up. Similar reason,” he sighed before standing up, “wait here, I'll get us some tea.”

For a few minutes, Dean stared out of the living room window, which was one of those huge floor-to-ceiling windows that led out to the balcony, and listened to Cas rattling around in the kitchen, and the boiling kettle. When he returned with two mugs, he motioned quietly for Dean to scoot over on the couch, and he obeyed immediately. Castiel offered one of the mugs to him, but Dean just shook his head.

“Keep it for a sec, and let me just-” he said, leaving the sentence half-finished and reaching for his blanket to spread it over both of them. Cas let him tug it down beside his thigh, and waited until Dean had settled before handing the cup over.

Taking the cup and a first, tentative sip from it, Dean relaxed visibly.

“What were you dreaming about?” Cas asked silently.

Dean chuckled. Cas just commented it with a raised eyebrow.

“I know it isn't funny... and I don't really know what I've been dreaming, forgot it again already, but... we had a similar situation before, you know. One time, I was waking up and you had been sitting on the edge of my bed, asking exactly this question.”

“I was watching you in your sleep? Oh. Wow. Didn't know I was that creepy.”

Dean huffed in amusement. “Yeah, I said something like that kind as an answer. Anyway... what were you dreaming about?”

Cas cleared his throat, the moment between them suddenly becoming a lot more tensed - somehow. “Sam. I saw him, surrounded by flames, and screaming. Screaming your name, occasionally mine, while he was in a cage with two other persons. Lucifer and Michael, I guess, but they weren't exactly persons... rather some kind of angrily pulsing light surrounding and slurring around Sam, and I reached out and grabbed him. Only a blue light was left behind, but I had Sam.”

Dean swallowed heavily. “You were the one who resurrected Sam after the apocalypse. The blue thingie you left was his soul.”

“Why would I leave back his soul?” Castiel asked back confused.

Dean turned his head towards the window then, left the question unanswered. It hurt too much to think about the whole betrayal arch that was their last year with Cas. They drank their tea in silence, and luckily, Cas didn't probe him any more.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Cas asked after countless moments.

“Dunno,” Dean shrugged. “Waiting for the call from the hospital?”

“Yes, but until then?”

It took a few moments of pondering until Dean stated. “Hey. You do have a computer, right?”

“Yes, I've got a laptop.”

“Would you mind if I'd use it to do some research?”

Cas shook his head slowly. “No, not at all.”

“Good, then I'll have something to do for tomorrow.” He deliberately didn't explain it any further.

They sat in silence once again, their mugs long empty and sitting on the couch table.

Dean only woke up from a distinctive beeping sound sounding from the bedroom, hours later, and noticed how stiff his his neck and left shoulder were. His neck because he had fallen asleep with his head tilted backwards and laying in a weird angle against the top of the back rest, and his shoulder because Cas' head lay heavily on it. Still, Dean couldn't help but grin slightly when he noticed it. Castiel was fast asleep, and if he didn't have to go to work today, Dean would have let him sleep that way.

And he would have let him sleep like that if it wasn't for the stupid alarm clock. Dean grunted and shook Cas softly awake. The look he received from the former angel was-

Precious.

Well, that was the first word that came to Dean's mind at seeing Cas blink into the morning sun shining through the windows, focusing on Dean before blinking again and yawning. While rubbing his eyes. Okay, definitely precious.

“Morning,” Dean mumbled sleepily.

The sounds that came out of Cas' mouth sounded vaguely like something similar. Then he stood wordlessly and stumbled towards his bedroom to shut the alarm off. Castiel returned seconds later, flopped back on the couch and back into the crook of Dean's shoulder, where he had slept before.

Dean laughed out loud. “You have to go to work, you know.”

“Don't wanna,” was mumbled against his shoulder.

Dean chuckled once again. “Gotta pay the bills,” he said, unconsciously reaching up and combing his fingers through Cas' messy hair.

“Mhhmpf,” was Castiel's only answer.

This time, Dean didn't respond, just looked down and wondered. Wondered how this man, who was so much his Cas and so much not had gotten so close to him in those few days. Sure, there was trust, out of nowhere, because they just knew each other. Even Castiel had recognized him, and seemed to remember more and more the longer he was around Dean, which – yeah, felt kinda awesome. But Dean knew that this wasn't his socially awkward nerdy angel any more. Cas was human now, was rehabilitated among humans, and acted like one. Went to work, had to eat and sleep and keep an eye on his car and his place. He was a regular man now.

And despite Dean having liked Cas' old personality, for all his awkwardness and strange attitude, he liked this new one just as well. 

Maybe, if Dean was honest to himself, because he felt that Cas did him good. That after all those months of hurt and pain and everything going down the tubes, he finally had something good in his life again. He had a friend again, one he could listen to and talk to in return. Who wouldn't judge him, who would be there for him unquestioningly. God, it felt good.

Dean squeezed him shortly, for a moment very overwhelmed by his feelings. Feelings he had thought were buried deep down inside, feelings he thought he wasn't allowed to have, because he just couldn't have nice things - because he was Dean Winchester.

Affection, joy, gratefulness.

Cas stirred under him tough, and Dean realized they had been sitting here like this for a few minutes too long, and Cas had to go to work.

“Rise 'n shine, Cas,” Dean said loudly, shooing the other man up and to the bathroom.

Laughing at Castiel's grumbled protest, he headed for the kitchen to make breakfast. Toast, this time because Cas liked it, and Dean quietly wondered when during the past few days they had slipped into this domestic lifestyle. However, it felt nice to have some kind of routine.

When Cas returned from his shower and saw the hawaii-style toast waiting for him, he grinned. “You made toast,” he stated amused.

“Yeah, thought you'd like it,” Dean said, sucking a drop of pineapple juice from his thumb.

“I do,” Cas answered quietly, looking down at his plate and shaking his head slightly.

“Will you stare at it all morning or are you going to eat it anytime soon?” Dean teased, nudging his shoulder against Cas'.

The other man snapped out of his daze and quickly rushed to the table to sit down and eat. Between bites and a pleased hum at the taste, Cas asked, “And you're positive that you're not really my ex-boyfriend or something?”

The way he said it made Dean smile and laugh lightly. “No, I'm not,” he answered, but a perfidious smirk tugged at the edges of his lips, and it didn't go unnoticed by Cas. 

“What?” the former angel asked, his voice a bit higher pitched than usual.

Dean just shook his head and turned around.

“Spill it, Winchester!” Cas commanded from the table.

Dean just laughed.

“Come on! There is – or there was something – so just tell me!”

“I told you there was nothing. Nothing happened between us.”

“But you said we were to a brothel together once-”

“Yeah, because you told me you're-”

“Wait,” Cas interrupted him, all of a sudden very serious and breaking their light banter, “wait. I remember... I remember-” he left his cutlery laying on the plate and reached up to rub his temples. “There's you... in a dark room. And you say something about Ernie and Bert being gay.”

Dean swallowed heavily. “Yes, that was the night we went to the brothel.”

“Great! But... what about Ernie and Bert?” Cas asked confused.

“Uhm... what I said back then was 'Two things I know for sure: One – Ernie and Bert are gay. Two – you're not gonna die a virgin on my watch.',” Dean explained, the lump still very present in his throat.

“But we were thrown out of the brothel, you said so. And- wait. Did you let me die a virgin?”

“Actually, yes,” Dean smiled lopsided in a fruitless attempt of an apology.

“Wait. So I'm a thirty-something-year-old virgin?” Cas' brows furrowed.

“Nope. Millenia-something-year-old virgin, to be exact,” Dean nodded, shoveling two toasts onto his own plate and grabbing his cup of coffee to sit down in front of Cas.

Who practically gaped at him.

“Yeah, I didn't keep my promise, sorry,” Dean said quietly. “But you were a tricky case.”

Cas shook his head. “Yes, the stick-up-the-ass-angel, I know, I know. But seriously, weren't there easier ways to get me laid than taking me to a whorehouse?”

“Like?”

“Dunno? You're a guy, figure it out,” Cas shrugged, looking down at his plate again.

“Damn right I'm a guy, but I'm also straight,” Dean deadpanned.

“Oh,” Cas mumbled, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Come again?” Dean stared at him, not really knowing how to deal with that response.

“Uhm. I didn't mean to... pry or step on your toes or anything. I mean, I haven't even figured it out for myself. I had more urgent things to do than burdening my mind with such trivial matters as sexual orientation. I did think about how it had been before, though... of course I did. There might always be the chance of an angry ex walking up to me and slapping me in the face because I don't remember them any more.”

“So what was your conclusion?” Dean asked. He didn't know if he should be curious about it or rather back off.

Cas shrugged. “I found neither men nor women interesting enough at first, and I blamed it on my medication and the treatment, but even when they lowered the medication to a minimum and the treatment became more and more open, I still found myself not caring about anyone I met. It's not like I've been trying to date or looking for anyone, so...” another shrug- “but I find myself feeling quite comfortable in your presence,” Castiel added quietly without looking at Dean.

Dean drew his breath in sharply. It seemed like nervous Cas liked to fall back into past-Cas' behavior, especially into his way of expressing himself. And Dean didn't know why, but he felt his heart swell at this. There was still his old Cas somewhere in there, and although he couldn't deny that he liked the new Cas in his own way, that fact made him smile widely. And to top it all, Castiel had just said he felt 'quite comfortable' in his presence. Silently Dean decided that he could let himself enjoy the feeling spreading in his chest for a minute. Or two.

Castiel smiled back, obviously pleased with Dean's reaction, and dug back into his breakfast. When he left for work just a few minutes later, Dean found himself actually sad as went out the door. So to shut up the stupid pounding of his heart, he sat down at Cas' PC to do some research, or at least see what Dick Roman was up to.

As it turned out, the Leviathans did pretty much nothing. Which, in Dean's understanding, meant they were planning up something big underneath, keeping it low, nothing that made the papers, not even the politics page in Roman's case. Dean decided to call Frank, because something in there was so not right. He could not use any kind of trouble right now, really not now.

So, as they agreed upon, Dean called the line Frank had given him the last time they talked, and let it ring exactly twice before hanging up again. A few minutes later – minutes Dean spent impatiently drumming his fingers onto the desk – his cell rang. 

“Yeah?” he answered it quickly.

“It's Frank,” a slightly annoyed voice greeted him.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dean groaned.

“Oh, c'mon, you were the one that called me. So spill it, I don't have time here all day. Especially not when pretty much anybody could listen to this.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but asked back calmly. “I'm just stuck here for at least a few days, and I don't see any action from the big-mouths. And I'm a bit worried about that, because it looks like the calm before the storm. You got anything?”

“Sure they're plotting something, but- wait, where are you at?”

Dean gave him the name of the small town Cas was currently living at and waited anxiously for Frank's answer.

“They're states over at the moment, as far as my contacts go. I'll warn you if I get to know anything, alright?”

“Yeah, please,” Dean said benevolent, pinching his nose. “Thanks, anyway, Frank. Alright, so I hope I don't hear from you anytime soon.”

Frank chuckled.

Dean was about to hang up on him, when Frank added in a haste, “Oh, one more thing! Meant to tell you. There has been a strange meteor sighted a couple miles outside of your town. Damn, I was sure I had heard that name just days ago.”

“A meteor? So?” Dean retorted, quite unimpressed.

“Dunno. Thought it might be something of your thing.”

“Well, was it anything special?”

“No, the only strange part of it was that it apparently hit the earth without leaving a crater,” Frank said sarcastically.

“Huh,” was all Dean could say. “Sorry, got bigger things to worry about. Big-mouths and stuff, you know. So bye.”

Dean could make out a faint 'Bye-' when he let his phone snap shut.

Huh, indeed. Weird. Dean couldn't quite sort out what it reminded him of, though. 

He surfed the internet for nothing particular for an hour or so, catching up on the news of the previous days and maybe laughing at a few youtube-videos to distract himself. It was actually quite an enjoyable morning until his cell phone rang at about 11 a. m.

“It's the St. James medical hospital, Dr. Milton speaking,” a male voice said upon answering it.

Dean gulped. Something familiar rang in his ears, but he couldn't nail it down.

“Is this Dean Winchester I'm speaking to?” 

“Yes, it is. You're calling about my brother?” Dean answered, and felt how the nagging panic he had tried to suppress welled up again.

“Yes, it's about Sam. Listen, I don't want to worry you, so first things first: he's doing okay, considering the circumstances. The medication works great, and he will be able to see you this afternoon. Would you like to stop by?”

“Of course,” Dean responded quick as a shot. “Can I bring someone else as well?”

A beat, a short breath of air into the speaker from the other side of the line. The doctor was pondering, and Dean found himself biting his lip. “Does Sam know that certain someone?”

“He does,” Dean assured with a nod, feeling stupid because the doctor wouldn't see this.

“It's okay, then, but we have to take it slow. I'll explain to you later.”

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat yet again. “Yeah, see you later, then.”

“Goodbye.”

Dean stared at the phone, lost in thought, and eventually put it back into his pocket. He decided to cook some lunch during the last hour he had left until Cas returned from work in an attempt to distract himself. The picture of what was awaiting him, of Sam in that hospital, had practically haunted him all night. That he had to face it that afternoon didn't make his thoughts any less heavy. Quite the contrary, rather.

He didn't notice the click of the entrance door opening when Cas came home, and almost threw the frying pan from the stove in shock. It wasn't really his brightest moment.

“Hey,” Cas chuckled amused as he watched from the door as Dean re-collected himself, “Did I startle you?”

“Did it look like that to you?” Dean snapped, but without much force behind it, which Cas picked up very well.

“What's for lunch?” Cas asked, ignoring the not-a-question Dean had thrown at him.

“Spaghetti aglio e olio,” Dean answered in a fake italian accent that made Cas laugh again.

“Oh, we're so going to stink from garlic,” he said, lips quirked in a smile.

“At least we will stink together,” Dean smirked.

After Cas had shrugged off his jacket and shoes, he came to stand beside Dean on the oven. “Thanks, by the way. And no, stop it-” he added immediately as soon as Dean opened his mouth to answer, “I know what you said. Doesn't mean I get to take it for granted. So just accept it for once, okay?”

Dean gulped. “Okay,” he said in defeat.

Cas bent forward to sniff at the noodles in the pan. “They smell delicious,” he commented anticipated.

Dean just smiled and after a few more minutes, which Cas spent with telling him a few anecdotes of today's work, he prepared their plates. The spaghetti didn't just smell wonderful, they actually tasted equally as good, and Dean quietly patted himself on the shoulder. At least his cooking skills had improved.

When they were done with lunch and had done the dishes, Dean couldn't push it any further into the future and finally cleared his throat. “The doctor called about an hour ago,” he said quietly.

“And? How's Sam?” Cas immediately responded eagerly.

“Fine, apparently. We are allowed to see him this afternoon.”

“Well, that's great! Should we go now?” Cas' blue eyes were sparkling. Then he stiffened, realizing what he had just said. “You said we,” he stated, blinking wonderingly.

“Yeah, and I meant we,” Dean said.

“So I am allowed to see Sam? Did you ask the doctor?”

“Yes, I did. It's okay.”

Cas looked out of the kitchen window, avoiding Dean's gaze. “You sure you want me in on this?” he whispered, his voice breaking mid-sentence. “I mean... do you have any idea how he's gonna react?”

“No, I don't know. But it'll be fine, I promise,” Dean said, reaching out and placing his hand comforting on Cas' upper arm unconsciously.

Cas let his head drop to his chest and sighed.

“Come on, please... I don't want to do this alone,” Dean choked out. It wasn't easy to admit, but hey, it was Cas he was talking to.

Castiel leaned forward into Dean's space and rested his head at Dean's shouler. “Don't get me wrong,” he began quietly, “It's not like I don't want to see Sam, but I'm worried that he might not react the way you think he will.”

Dean stayed silent.

“I know that Sam means more to you than everything- everybody else, so what if he-”

“Don't, Cas,” Dean said firmly, interrupting him, “Let's cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“If you say so,” Castiel sighed, sliding closer to Dean.

Without really thinking about it, Dean wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, pulling him into a hug. Who was he kidding, of course he was nervous as well. Of course he was worried that Sam would freak out after all that had happened with Cas. And Cas still didn't know about it.

“I know that there is a reason, you know,” Cas said evenly, “A reason that Sam may be angry at me. And not a minor reason, because else you'd have talked to me about it by now.”

Wordlessly, Dean squeezed him a bit tighter for a second, until Castiel raised his arms to place them around Dean's neck.

It hit Dean like a brick that he maybe kinda really... 'felt quite comfortable' in Cas' presence as well. The thought alone was frightening.

Quickly, he pulled away to not stretch the awkward moment any further. “Come on, let's go.”

Didn't mean he didn't want to slap himself for that move.

When they arrived at the hospital, Dean was so on the edge that he was desperate to hold onto something, and the number one candidate for that something was Cas' hand, swinging only inches from his own. But he wasn't a girl, and he wasn't gay, and... he was desperate, yes, but not that desperate. Dean took another deep breath. They reached the room Sam had been stationed in the day before quickly, and took a short glance through the window.

It revealed Sam sitting on the bed and talking to the doctor Dean and Cas had talked to the day before. The doctor whose name Dean didn't catch, but after the call this morning, it had to be Dr. Milton. Dean still wondered where he had heard that name before. He was sure he'd had heard it before.

When the doctor noticed them through the glass, he excused himself to Sam and quickly went to the door, shutting the window blind so Sam couldn't see who was visiting him.

“Dr. Milton?” Dean asked once the man in the white coat stepped up to them.

He nodded shortly. “Mr. Winchester, and Mr. …?” he looked questioningly at Cas.

“Doe,” Cas said, by default. Dean winced when he heard the name, but seeing as Cas didn't have a surname to begin with- it didn't matter.

Dr. Milton nodded again in understanding. “Okay. First things first – Mr. Winchester, you'll go in first, and without Mr. Doe. You can talk to Sam about anything you want to, but it will be under my watch. I have to see his reaction. We can let your friend here in later, when we are sure that Sam can handle his presence. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dean answered. “Let's do this.”

He took a deep breath before casting one last glance at Cas, a bit helpless, and Cas just gave him a comforting, small smile and squeezed Dean's shoulder with his hand. “Go,” he said.

Nodding, Dean followed the doctor into the room.

“Dean?” Sam said immediately, a happy smile on his face. A smile so happy it actually hurt Dean, because he hadn't seen a real trademark Sam-smile since... well, since Sam had been standing in front of him covered in glitter.

“Yeah, Sam, it's me,” Dean answered, swallowing heavily. 

Sam immediately jumped up from his bed and hugged Dean tightly. “It's so good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Dean said quietly, squeezing his brother shortly before releasing him. “How are you doing? Honestly?”

“I'm... I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I'm feeling good,” Sam said, the smile still prominent on his lips.

“Like... really, really good?” Dean asked carefully.

“Yeah, good in like 'no Lucifer sitting on the cupboard beside Dr. Milton'.”

Dean's eyes widened. “How... what?” Confused, he looked over to the doctor, who smiled innocently. “How much medication did you give him today?”

“We didn't have to stock it up since he woke up, because he didn't need it. We just let the ones that are still in his system wear off,” the doctor answered willingly.

“And you aren't kidding me, Sammy?” Dean turned back to his little brother.

“Nope, absolutely not. I'm not saying this for the doctor. And I've told him everything, believe me,” Sam grinned.

“Wait... like... everything everything?” Dean's eyes widened in shock.

Dr. Milton cut in right then. “Everything. Down to his soul in hell with Michael and Lucifer.”

“And you believed it?” Dean gaped.

“Of course. Hey, I work in a mental hospital,” the doctor shrugged.

“So, how have you been doing?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “'m okay. Holding up. And I... uhm... I met someone-” he looked to Dr. Milton for permission, and the doctor nodded in agreement, “you should meet him, Sam.”

Dr. Milton had left the room and returned with Cas, who stepped tentatively into the room, very aware of Sam's eyes on him. Sam checked him up and down, a frown on his face, but he responded eventually, disbelief in his tone, “Cas?”

Castiel nodded, watching Sam carefully. 

Sam's eyes flickered over to Dean, asking for help, before he reached for Dean's elbow and pulled him to the corner the furthest away from the door and Cas. “I... how... how is he back? I can't believe it. I mean... what happened?” he hissed.

“Sam, he doesn't remember anything. He remembers glimpses of you and me and the Impala, but that's it.”

“Oh, so we conveniently forgot about the whole betrayal and purgatory thing? Is that it?” Sam snapped.

“Sam, cut it out,” Dean grumbled angrily. “It's not like he had a choice, now did he?”

Sam pursed his lips. “But if he doesn't know anything anymore, does that make everything he did undone? No, Dean, it doesn't. It doesn't make him a different person than he was.”

“He has changed, and he's in therapy,” Dean rolls his eyes. “Give him a chance, you'll see. Believe me. Cas allowed me to crash at his place for the time being, and he does his best to make it up to me, even if he doesn't remember it any more.”

“Didn't you tell him?” Sam frowned.

“No, I didn't,” Dean looked to the floor and scratched the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed. “Not yet,” he added.

“Yeah, well, then tell him, please. Maybe he'll see that it takes a lot more than just letting you sleep on his couch to have our support again.”

“Now you're downright cruel, Sam. He's suffered enough, don't you think?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean. I know you always had a soft spot for him-”

“No, I didn't! Besides, totally missing the point here,” Dean spluttered.

“Save it. Cas left and betrayed us, Dean. And you know what? Back then, I prayed for him, thought he was still our friend, still on our side. And you saw how that turned out. To be fair, we should leave him to deal with the Leviathans, but no, that's always our part to play, rescue the world and stuff. The family business.”

“Bitter, Sammy, and harsh. Don't like that on you,” Dean said evenly.

Sam rolled his eyes again and huffed. “Yeah. I think you better leave, Dean. And think twice about the things he tells you. Don't trust him. He's not who he used to be, so you never know.”

Disappointed, Dean shook his head and turned around. “I'll see you tomorrow. That is, if you want to see me.”

Without saying one more word, Dean grabbed Cas' hand and pulled him out of the room. Without even saying goodbye to Dr. Milton.

Silently fuming, they went home – that is, to Cas' apartment, and Dean flopped down onto the couch as soon as he reached it. He groaned and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

“Damn, I need a beer,” he moaned.

Looking up, he saw Cas, standing beside the sofa, in the exact same spot as before, his head hanging low and staring to the floor. He looked crestfallen, and now that he looked closer, Dean noticed how Cas' shoulders shook. After standing up and stepping in front of him, Dean also noticed the tears rolling down Castiel's cheeks.

“Don't say I told you so,” Dean said quietly and cupped Cas' face in his, rubbing his thumbs over the smaller man's cheeks. His touch was gentle and comforting, and Dean felt how Cas leaned into it, but only shook harder from the sobs running through his body in waves. Dean tried to soothe him, but Cas seemed too upset to even talk. He fisted both hands into the fabric of Dean's shirt, clutching at it, tugging Dean closer, and pushing him away the next second.

“It hurts, Dean, it hurts so fucking much,” he sobbed.

“I know,” Dean said, but it didn't calm Castiel down in the least.

“No you don't!” he almost yelled, tears still running down his face while he grabbed Dean harder, “How could you possibly know? Sam's your brother. All you'd have to do was leave me back here and off he rolls with you, everything fine-”

Dean just huffed, not even commenting on it.

“-but me? I'm not his friend anymore. And I don't even know exactly why, and it hurts because I felt it. Felt that there was a friendship there, had been there for a long time, and I lost it, because I screwed up. Because past-me screwed up. Apparently, you two were the only friends I ever had, and I... failed and lost you.”

“Cas... Cas, listen to me for a second, okay? You know your last words to me were that you will redeem yourself to me?” Dean asked softly. By now, he had one hand wrapped around Castiel's waist and the other buried in the dark brown hair strands, trying not to force Cas to look up to him with the grip in his neck.

How the hell had physical contact become that normal between them? Dean wondered quietly, although he didn't care much at the moment.

Castiel nodded softly into his neck, where his head with the mop of brown hair had come to rest. “Then help me find a way to deal with the Leviathans. That will make Sam see that he can trust you.”

Cas swallowed and was quiet for a few minutes, just letting his sobs ebb out as Dean was holding him. Even after he had calmed down, Cas stayed right where he was.

“Dean, I'm so tired,” he finally managed.

When Dean glanced at his watch, he noticed that it only was about 4 p. m., but he could understand.

“You wanna lay down? Should I get you something?” he asked worried.

“Tea would be nice. And company,” Cas said wearily.

Dean nodded, pulling away from the hug and immediately missing the warmth of Cas' body. Gently, he rested his hand at the small of Castiel's back and led him down the short hallway to the bedroom, where Cas immediately fell into the sheets.

“Be right back,” Dean murmured, running a hand through the other man's hair absently and hurrying towards the kitchen.

After pouring two cups of peppermint tea, Dean entered the bedroom which he hadn't been in before – at all. It felt like intruding into Cas' personal space, but the latter just lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Sit up and shift,” Dean said quietly, nudging Cas lightly with his knee.

Castiel obeyed willingly and accepted the cup of tea. When they were both seated on the bed, Cas sighed tiredly. “Believe it or not, Dean, but I remember a bit more now. It just... happened. Bits of a room filled with torture tools, and an open hole in the wall. I have no idea where that was.”

Dean gulped, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.

“So I guess I have to tell you,” he finally said, sighing. “If you want to hear it?”

Cas nodded silently.

“Well then. Just let me talk, and ask questions later. It's hard enough to tell this story at all.”

***

An hour later, they were still on the bed – laying now instead of sitting – and Dean just finished the horrible story of how his best friend betrayed him to work with the king of hell.

“I don't... I don't even know where to begin, Dean,” Cas said, staring up at the ceiling. “I think 'I'm sorry' doesn't nearly cover it.”

Dean huffed, still bitter from having to talk about 'superman gone dark side'. “No, it doesn't.”

They were quiet for an awfully long time, and Dean had a hard time fighting down the tears that prickled up in his eyes. It hurt. It hurt like shit to tell all this to the one who was initially responsible for all of this, even though he did the complete wrong things for the completely right reasons. Cas sighed beside him and covered his face in both palms. Dean looked over at him, a bit clueless on how to react.

“I'm sorry,” Cas finally said through his hands. “I really am.”

“I know,” Dean said silently. “But it's over. Nothing possible to change about it. So let's make the best of it.”

Cas withdrew his hands and turned his head towards Dean, the glance in his eyes troubled and stormy. “How do you do that? I basically betrayed you, lied to you and managed to get the most powerful monsters out into the world. I fucked up so bad, how do I deserve your forgiveness?”

Dean swallowed. “You're my friend, Cas. Have been and always will. And you changed.”

“Sam doesn't trust me,” Castiel answered simply.

“I do,” Dean retorted, his voice wrecked and broken all of a sudden.

Cas sighed again and shook his head. He seemed lost and unsure of what to do, which Dean could reasonably understand. Trying to offer some comfort, Dean sat up and leaned against the headboard, lifting his right arm and offering the spot to Cas with a wordless nod. The other man got the hint quickly and curled up against Dean's side, head rested against his shoulder. Cas' body was warm and firm where they touched from shoulder to leg, but he shook notably. Dean squeezed him tight, the close proximity feeling overwhelmingly good, and it made the weight of the world on his shoulders seem a bit more distant and bearable.

“'m exhausted,” Dean mumbled heavily, felt how sleep tugged at his eyelids.

“Me too,” Castiel answered silently from where his head lay on Dean's shoulder, puffs of warm breath hitting Dean's neck and making him shiver.

In the end, they fell asleep like this, and when the headboard of the bed became too hard and uncomfortable, they sank down to the bed, Cas curled up in Dean's arms.

***

When Dean woke up the next morning, there were several things bothering him.

First, the sun was shining brightly through the window. None of them had closed the curtains yesterday, and the light hadn't woken them for a respectable amount of time. Which brought him to-

Second, the sun was shining brightly through the window. It had to be late morning at least, which meant they had slept for an awfully long time. Without waking, without nightmares. Dean couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's sleep, much less... Well, it had been not after 7 p. m. when they fell asleep yesterday. Which meant they had slept for straight 14 hours and then some. He felt so utterly rested and fit, more than he had felt in months.

But if they had slept in- didn't Cas have to go to work? Dean reached for his cell phone in his pocket, careful not to wake Castiel, and was pacified as soon as he had taken a look at the display. It was Saturday, and Cas had the day off.

Speaking of Cas-

He was laying flat on Dean's chest, arms splayed out and wrapped around Dean's waist, still asleep and snoring softly. The picture of personified peace. Dean didn't know if he wanted to wake him at all. The guy had a history of month-long sleep disturbances behind himself, and god knows he deserved it.

Absent-mindedly, Dean had trailed one of his hands up into the mop of dark-brown hair on his chest, caressing the mussed strands of hair gently. Cas stirred for a short moment, his eyes twitching, but they didn't open. He just shifted a bit, shuffling up Dean's body and burying his head in the crook of his neck, where he sighed softly. The arm around Dean's waist tightened.

And, surprising to Dean, it felt wonderful.

Dean had never been a fan of cuddling. Never. And yet, he lay here, in the warm morning sun, with Cas wrapped up in his arms, and the smaller man fit perfectly there against his side. A sudden wave of affection hit Dean, tightening his chest and making him wonder when this started.

Sam's words rang in his ears. 'You always had a soft spot for Cas.'

Yeah, so maybe he had. So what?

Cas had always been different. Apart from his brother, Cas was his best friend, his nerdy angel that was always there to help him. If he hadn't messed up so horribly during their last few months, he would still be his best friend. But then again, the current turn of events opened paths Dean had thought were closed long ago.

The soft, even breaths of the man in his arms became ragged and Castiel twitched a bit, his eyes opening slowly. He looked drowsy and sleepy. The first moments after he looked around and noticed Dean and the sun and everything, confusion was written all over his face, just like Dean must have looked minutes ago. He didn't shift or scramble back, though, and when he had taken the scenery in he just let his head drop down onto Dean's chest again.

“Morning, Cas,” Dean said, his voice rough from sleep, and he couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his lips at the adorable picture in front of him. Sleepy Cas with messed-up hair blinking into the soft sun light while laying on his chest. Jep, adorable.

Dean didn't even wonder any more what had happened to him. Not when he, for once, had a moment of peace. Not even when he thought about another man, his friend on top of that, as adorable.

“Good morning,” Cas muttered against his chest. “How long did we sleep?”

Dean looked over the other one's head at the clock ticking on the bedside table. It was 11 a. m. “Close to 15 hours.”

A chuckle came from Cas, making Dean smile with its warmth. “Wow,” was all he said.

The following minutes were spent with silent cuddling, something Dean would never considered in the least. He had never been the type for it. Still he just didn't want it to stop, Cas' body pressed solid and firm against his. He didn't even have an idea why he was so down with it, no matter how much he pondered about it. After a while, Castiel eventually propped himself up on his elbows, hands still splayed out over Dean's chest. “What do you want to do today? Anything planned?”

“I'll visit Sam,” Dean answered, staring into space. “I think I should go alone.”

Cas nodded, before he sat up, stretching and yawning. Dean just watched in amusement.

“God, I feel like I haven't slept that well in ages,” Cas stated with a pleased smile.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean answered, avoiding Cas' eyes. His hand, he realized, was still resting on Cas' knee, because it was still within range. After squeezing it once, he broke the contact.

When their eyes locked, they exchanged a short, but heartfelt smile. “Thanks,” Cas said quietly, and he didn't need to explain what he meant, because Dean understood.

“Don't mention it.”

Another quiet smile was exchanged before Cas hopped off the bed, his shirt rumpled from sleeping in it and his jeans hanging low on his hips. Dean didn't even want to think about how Cas looked right now, because his feelings were everything but sorted at the moment. There was the strange power that seemed to radiate from the dark-haired man, enticing, drawing Dean towards him. Old feelings of trust and hope and friendship, and the newer ones of affection and... well, the ones that came up with all the physical contact they maintained lately. Dean felt their bond, growing stronger with every moment they spent together.

“Feel free to use the shower first, I'll make some breakfast. Pancakes?” Cas asked.

Dean grinned before nodding. “Hell yes, Pancakes.”

Cas blinked shortly and left the room with a lopsided smile.

Dean rubbed his eyes. He really couldn't feel more confused, because as much as he appreciated the – say, relationship – he was building with Cas here, there was still Sam, in the hospital. He had seemed fine last time they visited, but the wall was still broken and Lucifer... Dean didn't trust him being completely out of the picture. He had left his imprints too deep in Sam's soul, and the result had shown pretty heavy that few days ago. All of this wouldn't be over within just a few days, just couldn't be. 

He sighed and got to his feet, padding across the hallway to the bathroom to have a short shower.

When he left the room to get some clothes from his duffel bag, only clad in a towel which was wrapped around his waist, Cas poked his head out from the kitchen. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, Dean saw his eyes roaming down his body and back up, and swallow shortly before he spoke. Dean didn't know why, but he found it highly amusing that he could throw Cas off balance that easily.

“I... just wanted to know if you'd like maple syrup or chocolate sauce with your pancakes,” Cas coughed.

Dean chuckled at the picture of his utterly confused friend. “First, maple syrup, and second, you are really easy to distract, Cas,” he laughed.

Cas pouted – honest to god pouted – and stepped forward to punch Dean's shoulder playfully with his fist. “You can't really blame me, now can you?” he said, eyes resting on Dean's chest, before he turned around and went back to the kitchen. Dean couldn't fail to note the soft swing of his hips, jeans still riding low on his hips.

Okay, so maybe he should begin to get some kind of gay crisis, because Cas... Cas had an effect on him that usually was caused by some kind of hot chicks.

He swallowed heavily and headed for his bag. The only clean clothing he could find was an old, thread-bare pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. It was time to do some laundry.

“Cas, could I use your washer? I'm running out of clean clothes,” Dean asked when he stepped into the kitchen, finding the other man standing at the stove and handling the frying pan.

When Cas turned around, his eyes did the same once-over again, and he began to smirk. “If that means you'll be walking around in these clothes, I won't.”

Okay, so maybe the t-shirt was old and a bit too small by now, and maybe the jeans were washed so often that they had become a bit tight as well. Dean didn't even have a shirt or button-down or anything left that he usually wore over the t-shirt.

And Cas obviously liked what he saw. He was down-right flirting with Dean, and the shocking part of it all was that Dean didn't feel taken aback or bothered at all. He felt rather flattered, if he was honest to himself. “Sure, and tomorrow I'll have to stay inside because I can't go out of the house naked,” he said jokingly.

“I don't see any problem with that,” Cas retorted, smirking even wider.

Dean poked him in the side before he slipped past him to prepare the table. As Cas was still busy and the kitchen wasn't big, they had their fair share of occasional contact, and Dean caught himself at willingly causing it. When had he turned into a teenager again?

The table was set up quickly, and Dean proceeded to get the coffee machine to work. As he counted the spoonfuls of coffee powder he was pouring into the machine, Dean realized something quite surprising, and he stopped in his movements.

He hadn't drunk a drop of an alcoholic drink for days, and he didn't miss it in the least. Dean's gaze wandered to Cas standing at the oven, who seemed to have noticed him and quickly turned his head towards Dean.

“What's up?”

“Oh, nothing... I just... I just realized I didn't have a beer for days.”

“So? You miss it?” Cas' lips were suddenly pursed, his tone sharp.

Dean raised both eyebrows. “No, not at all,” and he noted how Cas' expression softened immediately.

“I really appreciate that, Dean,” Cas said in earnest, turning back to the pancakes.

Dean swallowed shortly before he asked, “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Cas retorted, confusion in his voice.

“You know what I mean. There's some kind of history there, with you and alcohol. I don't remember you like this.”

Cas was quiet for a minute, and Dean waited patiently.

When Castiel had poured another scoop of pancake batter into the hot pan, he sighed deeply. “There was someone in my support group, early on, in my third month. When I met him, he had a hard time dealing with his wife, who was deeply hurt as you can probably imagine. He made good progress during the meetings, and we even became friends. He eventually broke up with his wife, because both of them couldn't bear the situation any more. I was helping him move out into his own place, and he did fine for a few weeks, and then he began to drink when he was alone, just to not having to care any more. We tried to help him, but he skipped the meetings with increased frequency. I drove out to where he was living, tried to coax him into going with me to the meetings, but he wouldn't come any more. The doctors tried to talk to him as well, but to no avail.”

Cas fell silent, emotion heavy on his face, eyes shining sad. Dean felt his heart drop at the picture and quickly went over to nudge Cas' shoulder softly with his hand. “What happened after that? Was that all?”

The other man shook his head. “He didn't show up any more, as he said. A few weeks later one of us read his obituary in the newspaper.”

“Oh,” Dean just said.

“Alcohol poisoning.”

“Oh. I see.”

“That's the reason I don't drink and the reason I don't keep any alcohol at all in my place. Because at some point during my rehab, I found myself drawn to that as well, just get drunk and pass out on the couch. That way, I was at least able to sleep, even if it wasn't the healthy kind of sleep. After I did it a few times in a row, I was shocked at how it changed me. I was sleeping through the night, yes, but I was tired and hungover in the morning, and I found myself rather aggressive during meetings, and my therapist called me on it. That's when I knew I needed to stop, especially when I saw what happened to Jeff.”

His tone had become heavy and worried and Dean did what he was longing for ever since Cas had begun to talk. He stepped towards the smaller man and wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him close to his body. Cas rested his head shortly on Dean's shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Dean's neck, before he withdrew and went back to the pancakes.

Wordlessly, Dean turned back to the coffee machine, finishing the setup and pushed the power button. It bubbled to life and soon, the dark fluid was dripping into the glass pot. Cas was lost in thought, finishing the pancakes in some kind of daze Dean didn't want to snap him out off. He didn't want to talk, and Dean didn't want to, either.

He had to think inevitably of the Jeff he had the 'pleasure' to meet just a week ago. The one that had the hots for a demon. Dean couldn't deny that Jeff had made him think about his behavior, and Dean couldn't exactly say that he had been much better after he had lost Cas than Jeff when he had lost his demon. To say it in Sam's words, he had been wobbly. To say it in his own words, Dean had felt lost and alone and helpless when Cas had died. Sure, he had Sam and Bobby, but both had vanished, in their own way. Sam didn't trust him as much any more after the disaster with Amy, and Bobby...

Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat. It still hurt. Of course it did.

After Cas had died, Dean had been numb at first. There were days when he waited for that familiar sound of fluttering wings and Cas appearing behind him. Those were the days he still believed that Cas had survived. But nothing happened, and Dean found himself increasingly angry. Angry that they were left like this, with the mess Cas left and now had to clean up after him. Angry that he had lost the best friend he had in years to something he could have prevented if Cas just had talked to him soon enough...

The anger had faded, and realization had hit him. That was the phase that Sam had remembered the most, where Dean had barely managed living through the day, only managed it with a lot of alcohol to suppress his feelings, because he couldn't handle any of them.

Despite everything that had happened, he had missed Cas. A fucking lot.

Dean had thought he couldn't go on like this, remembered having said to Elliot Ness that he didn't know why he bothered doing it at all. And he remembered Frank, who told him that functioning was all that counted, because he just had to. Then other things had been more important – Bobby's death, Sam's mental state – which didn't make his situation any better, but helped him focus on something else, helped him dealing.

And right where he thought it couldn't get any worse, Cas was there again. And Dean was sure, that come what may, this time he wouldn't let him leave.

They sat down on the table and had breakfast, accompanied by some smalltalk and light conversation. The knot in Dean's chest eased up.

Afterwards, Dean helped Cas doing the dishes and got ready to leave for the hospital.

“You're sure you'll manage this on your own?” Cas said, worry obvious in his tone, from the kitchen.

Dean just nodded, but felt the tension tighten the muscles around his lips. He couldn't really smile at the moment.

Cas wiped his hands dry on the towel in his hands and threw it aside quickly. Still clothed in his rumpled clothes of yesterday, he stepped towards Dean and hugged him tightly. This time, it was Dean's turn to bury his head against the other man's neck, taking a deep breath. There wasn't any perfume or aftershave, just the fragrance of Cas, musky with a hint of salty skin. It was strangely comforting. Maybe because he had slept with that fragrance around him all night.

When Dean pulled back from Cas to turn to the door, Cas stopped him by cupping his face in both hands and pulled him down to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Dean didn't know if he should be embarrassed or flattered by the gesture, but it was too sweet to bitch about it right now, no matter how much Dean wanted to.

He gave Castiel a short, lopsided smirk instead.

“Take care, Dean,” Cas said intently.

“I will, mom,” Dean couldn't help but retort.

The serious tension was broken, and Cas nudged his shoulder playfully. “And drive save!”

Dean smiled.

“And come home immediately after!”

Dean grinned.

Castiel reciprocated the gentle grin, and this time, it was Dean who shoved back up into his space, wrapping both arms around his waist and hauling him up into mid-air.

Deep, intense blue eyes blinked down at him, sparkling amused. Dean swung him around in a full 360°-circle before setting him back down onto the floor. Cas blinked again in wonder.

Dean just shook his head with a smile. His hand had unconsciously come up and cupped Cas' cheek, and Castiel tilted his head slightly into the touch. They stood incredibly close, even for their usual proximity – personal space was something Cas had never really understood. But this time, Dean didn't even have a problem with it. It felt like some kind of electric current was buzzing between them, drawing them together like a magnet, and Dean felt his breath hitch.

He wanted to kiss Cas, right here, right now.

And the thought didn't even shock him.

He sighed deeply and leaned forward, their foreheads resting against each other's, and Cas shivered slightly under his touch. Mere inches were separating them, and it would be no effort at all to close the gap between them. All he'd have to do was lean forward, push his lips onto Cas', and he had looked at them often and long enough to know how plush and soft they had to be. And by god, Dean wanted nothing more than to feel it for himself right now.

Dean felt Cas' ragged breath against the sensitive skin of his cheeks and lips, felt his own labored huffs, and realization hit him hard all at once. Softly, he pushed back from the embrace, holding Castiel at arm's lengh.

The look in his eyes was confused, and the amount of undisguised disappointment Dean saw there made his heart pound twice as fast as usual. Something was happening here, and it apparently was mutual.

“Cas...” Dean just said, dropping his hands and taking a step back.

Castiel cocked his head to the side and frowned slightly. “I think you should go to the hospital, Dean,” he said quietly.

“Listen, I'm-”

“Don't,” Cas interrupted him, his eyes flickering back and forth between Dean's, watching him carefully. “I know,” he added quietly.

Dean took a deep breath. 

Okay.

It was officially time to freak out.

With a last, shaky smile towards Castiel, Dean turned to the door, grabbed the spare key to the flat, and left. He felt Cas' eyes on him all the way until the door closed.

***

Dean drove to the hospital in a haze of conflicted feelings.

He felt like some kind of hope was showing up again – finally! - if he was just able to sort out his problems with Sam. Maybe talk to him about Cas, because he just felt so unsure about this whole thing that was developing between them. The Impala was parked quickly in the hospital parking lot and Dean had to take another deep breath before he left and locked the doors.

Minutes later, Dean stepped into Sam's room in the hospital, to find him sitting on the bed like yesterday, with the same doctor.

Dr. Milton, he remembered. The name still let some alarm go off in his mind, but he still couldn't nail it down. Then again, a lot of people had that surname. It didn't have to be a clue. Maybe he was fixating on something meaningless here.

“Doctor,” Dean greeted him with a short nod before he turned to Sam, who eyed him carefully. “Sam, how's it going?”

“Good, very good.”

“I think we'll be able to release him in a few days,” Dr. Milton added with a smile.

“Really? That would be awesome,” Dean said quickly. “But how... how did this work so well? And so fast?”

Sam smiled. Something about it made Dean suspicious. “What?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

Dr. Milton grinned.

“I can't figure him out,” Sam said towards Dean. “But he knows. When I told him all about the apocalypse, he got it. Not just understood, he... knew, on some level. That's gotta mean something. But I just don't get who he really is.”

Dean's eyes narrowed to slits. “I knew it.”

“You knew what?” the doctor said innocently.

“Dr. Milton. Your name. Reminded me instantly of something, I can't just put it down, and I would have my gun out by now if I didn't know you helped Sam.”

“Yeah... I fixed Sammy's wall here. But you better keep an eye on him this time. It may be stronger this time but it still doesn't mean it can't break a second time. Of course he remembers a lot now, he even remembers hell, or part of it, but I took care of it being bearable for him.”

“How the fuck do you know all this?” Dean shook his head in disbelief.

“I just do,” Dr. Milton said with a shrug and a lopsided smile.

Dean eyed him carefully, head to toe. There had to be something about him, something that gave away a clue. Sam sighed. “I don't get it,” he stated.

“But we met before, haven't we?” Dean asked the doctor.

Dr. Milton looked up and nodded. “Couple times.”

“And you're here to help-” Dean left the sentence half finished and looked to the floor. He felt like being so close, so close to figuring it out. “What's your first name?”

“You really think I would tell you my real first name? You'd know immediately. That would be no fun,” the doctor chuckled.

Dean looked him up and down, took in the cheeky grin and his white coat and the cowboy boots he was wearing-

It fell like scales from Dean's eyes when things clicked into place. “No way,” he said breathlessly.

“Waaaay,” the doctor said, drawing the word out with a grin.

“What? Who is it?” Sam turned around towards his brother eagerly.

“You won't believe it, Sammy.”

“Tell me!”

Dean grinned at him and sat down on the bed beside him. “I'm wondering why you didn't notice before.”

“Notice what? Why don't you just fucking tell me?” Sam became impatient, slapping Dean's thigh softly to get a response out of him.

“It's much more fun if you figure it out by yourself,” Dean chuckled, pointing at the doctor. “We met him before in a similar disguise, but back then, he did get something wrong that he fixed this time,” Dean nodded at the cowboy boots. “He likes to have his fun with other people. He knew all about the apocalypse because he was the one who gave us the final clue on how to stop it. Am I right?”

Sam blinked.

The doctor grinned.

“And you called yourself Dr. Milton because that was Anna's surname when we met her.”

“Gabriel,” Sam gasped, looking up at the man standing in front of him.

“New vessel?” Dean asked amused, but right then, within a split second, Gabriel changed back to the usual, short man with the curly, light-brown hair which they knew him as. “Ah, okay. So just the usual disguise then.”

“You were dead!” Sam exclaimed, confused and questioning.

“Yeah, about that...” Gabriel chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I was dead. But, seeing as I kinda was the one who helped you averting the apocalypse and all, dad decided to give me another chance. Kind of.”

Dean blinked. Twice. “You spoke to God?”

“Helloo, God's messenger?” Gabriel said, pointing at himself and screwing up his face. “If someone's got a line to daddy, who else would it be?”

“Okay,” Dean nodded. “But that doesn't explain why you're here.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Well, like I said, I got another chance. You know that dad helped you out a few times now, and he gave me a choice. Either stay up there, watch the other angels – there aren't many left, believe me – and run heaven for him, and get back my status as an angel, complete with my powers. I would just never have the opportunity to leave for earth, I would never be stationed down here again. The other option was to return here, with minor powers that will fade after some time, making me completely human, until I died.”

Sam swallowed audibly. “You chose to come down here. And help me.”

Gabriel laughed bitterly. “Yes, I did. Why sit up there on my thumbs watching you going down when I could help you? I'd rather die after a long, happy, human life, than be a powerless angel in heaven, where there isn't much to do.”

“You fixed my wall,” Sam said, eyes wide. “That must have taken a lot of mojo.”

Gabriel nodded, looking out of the window to avoid Sam's gaze. “So?”

“Why did you do this for me?” Sam asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Did it occur to you that you two muttonheads made me think a lot? That you made me change? That in some crazy universe that happens to be this one, I care about you?” Gabriel said, head thrown back to glare up at Sam, who was still taller than him even though he sat on the bed.

Dean just watched the scene wordlessly and remembered a sentence Frank had said to him on the phone a few days ago. A sentence he hadn't paid much attention to, had thought it was a joke, just some trivia. But now, it all suddenly made sense.

“You fell from grace,” Dean stated, not looking at either Sam nor Gabriel.

“Yes, I did. How did you know?”

“Frank told me about a meteorite that came down a few days ago around here, without a trace, which was strange enough. It was the same with Anna back then,” Dean said.

“Someone tell him what he won?” Gabriel joked, but the smile on his face was warm for a change. Not mischievous or cheeky, just warm.

Wordlessly, Sam got up from his bed and stepped towards Gabriel, pulling him in a Sam-style bear hug. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Dean tried hard not to burst into laughter at the scene, poor Gabriel being almost squashed against Sam's chest, making some fake suffocating sounds. “Don't kill me, Sam-squatch,” he choked, poking Sam's sides.

“I won't,” Sam said, burying his face in the mop of brunette hair in front of him.

Dean cleared his throat. “You done?” he coughed.

Sam released Gabriel from his grip and turned around to Dean, raising an eyebrow. “Nope.”

And with that, Sam turned back to the former archangel. “So, what do you plan on doing now? Settle down with wife and kids?”

Gabriel laughed. “Oh, hell no. Actually, I haven't got any plans for now. Thought I'd cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“You wanna come with us?” Dean asked quickly, shoving away all second thoughts that told him otherwise. Because he knew Gabriel was a jerk, and liked to play pranks, and was ten kinds of personified mischief, and he still didn't like him that much. But he saved Sam. And that on the other hand meant a fucking lot.

Gabriel looked thoughtfully at him, quirking a short smile. “If it wouldn't be any trouble for you?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Trouble is kinda in the job description, don't you think?”

“Huh,” Gabriel said, nodding. “Touché.”

“Gabe, I think you'd be a decent hunter, you just have to be aware of what that means if you're human,” Sam said, his voice soft, “It means a lot of hurt and pain and not being able to snap yourself away when shit gets real.”

“I know.”

“Then you're welcome to join us,” Sam nodded, turning around to Dean for reassurance. Dean nodded simply. “And I'll train you,” Sam added with a short smile.

“Oh god,” Gabriel just said with a fake eye-roll.

Sam punched him in the shoulder. Then they hugged again, practically falling into each other's arms.

“What the hell made you two constantly all touchy-feely like that?” Dean commented and shook his head.

“We had a lot to talk about,” Sam explained with a shrug. “And I slept so much during the first days I was here that I had a lot of energy and a lot of time to kill in the night.”

“Uhm... too much information, Sammy?” Dean said, coughing again.

“What?” Gabriel squeaked.

“No, we didn't... god, Dean. No, not that,” Sam shook his head, but Dean saw a slight blush creep up his cheeks. He bit back the comment that was laying on the tip of his tongue and got to his feet.

“So, he'll be able to go home soon?” Dean asked Gabriel, who wound his way out of Sam's bone-crushing hug.

“Yeah, I'd just keep him here one or two days more, for good measure,” Gabriel said. “So the other doctors won't question my decision.”

Dean reached for a notepad and pen on Sam's bedside table to scribble down Cas' address.

“What's that?” Sam asked, confused.

“Cas' address. Come there when you're sent home. We'll figure out a plan on what to do then,” Dean answered. “Besides, I'd like to know if you'd let me take Cas along. That is of course, if he wants to.”

Sam pursed his lips, his expression becoming tensed immediately. “You know you shouldn't trust him?”

“You know he changed. You know he doesn't remember anything,” Dean pressed out through his teeth.

“Yeah, and-”

“Sam,” Gabriel said firmly. “Cas is still my brother. I'm voting for giving him a second chance and I think you won't regret it. Didn't you believe in him until the end? That he could still change?”

“Yes, and he failed,” Sam retorted disappointed.

“Don't you think that maybe this was dad's way of giving him a second chance as well? Making him forget, letting him live a human life, but banning him from heaven? Don't you think he deserves it? Because he did the wrong thing for the right reason and stuff?” he said. “I thought you'd had enough experience with me to know that kind.”

Sam let his head drop to his chest. “Touché,” he mumbled.

“Trust me, Sam, please. I trust him,” Dean added, looking pleadingly at his brother.

“You're in love with him,” Gabriel stated dryly. “That's completely different.”

“What? No, I'm not!” Dean exclaimed, frowning at Gabriel.

“Oh, please,” the shorter man waved him off, “You've always been. You just realized it now that you saw what you lost.”

“I'm-”

“Dean-o, shut up. I have still a little mojo left, and I've wasted enough on reading your mind,” Gabriel chuckled. “And something tells me that you should go home to him and tell him and you won't regret it.”

Dean shook his head. “I can't.”

“Oh, big gay crisis?” Gabriel's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, while an amused smirk played around his lips.

“I'm not gay!” Dean shook his head again, this time in disgust. “Look, I like... tits and and curves stuff. Not dick.”

“Just Castiel's, then. What's the problem?” Gabriel cocked his head to the side, the trademark angel head tilt that made Dean think of Cas immediately.

“It's not- I mean... ugh, fuck you,” Dean groaned frustrated and headed for the door. “I already regret suggesting to take you with us.”

He could practically hear the smirk in Gabriel's voice when the archangel answered, “Be honest to yourself, Dean, for once. And to Cas. I think I don't have to give you the big-brother-talk?”

Sam burst into laughter at that. It was so genuinely happy and joyful that Dean couldn't suppress the smile rising on his lips.

“Are you okay with this, Sam?” Dean asked amused.

“Hey, I've settled with you being gay for Cas so long ago, I don't even remember. Seriously. I'm still not quite convinced that he's trustworthy, but I'm gladly looking forward to being shown otherwise,” Sam shrugged.

“You two-” Dean said, pointing at Sam and Gabriel, “are unbelievable.”

“Thanks for acknowledging the obvious,” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at him and sat down beside Sam on the bed, leaning against his shoulder. Sam's arm wrapped itself around the smaller one's waist immediately, and a lazy smile followed on Gabriel's lips.

Dean felt like he was intruding, like something in the air had suddenly changed.

He said goodbye quickly and left the hospital, eager on driving home and telling the awesome news to Castiel.

***

When Dean returned to Cas' flat, the air was filled with the delicious fragrance of something freshly baked, and the sound of the radio playing in the background.

Dean dropped the key into the bowl beside the door and toed off his shoes. After losing the jacket as well, he followed the fragrance and the sound of rattling kitchen utensils to the small kitchen. He found Castiel, wearing an apron and standing in front of the oven with a half-finished cake sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him. Apparently, he had just begun to apply some powdered sugar – scratch that, it was pie Cas was making.

Fucking pie.

Cas had heard him approaching and looked shortly at him, shooting him a short smile. “Hey, Dean. Thought I'd make some pie for when you come back.”

“Hey,” Dean just said, watching in awe. “What made you think of pie?”

“Actually, I dreamed about it. Something about you and pie rang some bells, and because I like baking-”

“You like baking?”

“Yes, I do. I had to find some kind of hobby, you know. And cooking wasn't really my kind of thing, so I tried some pie recipes, and I found out that I'm not that bad at it. So I started to bring something to every meeting, pie or cake or some baked goods,” Cas shrugged, smiling to himself.

Dean stared. He couldn't even begin to voice what he was feeling right now. All he knew was that it was no use denying it any more.

There was Cas, and he turned around, locking eyes with Dean and smiling happily, and the picture made Dean's stomach do somersaults and his heart jump to a way too fast pace.

“I've got great news,” Dean said, voice notably shaken, although he'd rather liked to say something else.

“About Sam?” Cas asked, loosening the knots of the apron as he spoke.

“Yes,” Dean nodded. “He's fine, and he'll return home in a few days. Guess who fixed his wall?”

Cas shrugged, stepping towards Dean because he was standing right beside the hooks on the wall. “Tell me,” he said.

“Gabriel.”

It took a few moments for Cas to process that. “Gabriel as in... the Gabriel? The archangel? I thought he was dead?”

Dean nodded. “Apparently, god gave him a second chance, as he did with you, too.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, then I better do something good with my second chance,” Cas stated, looking deep into Dean's eyes as he stood merely inches away.

Dean didn't say anything, just looked and almost lost himself in the depth of those blue eyes, and smiled. Cas mirrored his expression, smiling widely and leaning even more into Dean's space. Without giving it much thought, Dean lifted his hands and placed them on Cas' waist, holding him in place. Not that Cas showed any intention of pulling away, but Dean just wanted to feel him under his hands, body warm and firm. He wore a plain black button-down and jeans, a different pair than the one he had slept in, and his hair was sticking up in weird angles. It was free of product and looking soft from being freshly washed. Dean wanted to run his fingers through it.

Then why didn't he just do it?

Cas seemed to have read his thoughts, because he leaned forward, against Dean's chest, tucking his head under Dean's chin. Dean let his hand stoke Castiel's back, up to his neck, and entangled his fingers in the soft hair on the back of Cas' head. Subsequently, he buried his nose in Cas' dark hair, breathing in the fragrance of fresh shampoo, something fruity, and of Cas.

The radio seemed to be haunted or something, because REO's 'Can't fight this feeling' was on.

He squeezed Castiel tight, and the other man returned it with both hands wrapped around his waist. Dean felt lightheaded and a little bit dizzy.

Cas had made pie. How could he be any more fucking perfect?

Dean's heart jumped at the thought. He knew that whatever he did, it would have consequences. He had never been in a relationship that lasted for longer than a few weeks. With Cas, and he knew this, it would be something for the long haul. He had never done this, he didn't know if he was able to handle it. Much less with another man on top.

Right then, Cas pulled back, leaning into his arms, big blue eyes looking up at Dean and taking his breath away.

It didn't matter, Dean decided. He would make this work, he would do whatever it took, because Cas was worth everything. They would make it work. Reaching around Cas' head, Dean brushed a single strand of hair off the other one's forehead, letting his palm slip down to cup his cheek. And unlike after lunch, Dean wasn't too chicken-shit and didn't run away.

Smiling softly, he bent down and brought their lips together, Cas meeting the movement halfway. Their first kiss, finally, and it was tentative and gentle and teasing, and Dean found himself smiling into it, felt how Castiel's lips were drawn into a smile as well. It was sweet, and perfect and Dean didn't want it to end.

When Cas leaned back in Dean's arms after quite a while, his smile was dazzling, and his lips still slightly wet. Dean quickly leaned forward to steal another kiss from those lips, which made Cas chuckle.

“You want some pie?” Cas asked, his voice deep and smooth and sending shivers done Dean's spine.

“I love pie,” Dean answered. “But let me first ask you a question, Cas. If we leave this town, I mean, Sam and me and Gabriel as tag-along kid, would you like to come with us?”

Cas' smile was soft and loving when he reached up to cup Dean's face in his hands, letting his thumbs stroke softly over his cheekbones. “Dean, I'd follow you wherever you'd go, just to make up for what I did.”

“Stop talking about it,” Dean said cheekily and shut Cas up with another deep kiss.

After countless moments of breathless kissing, Dean swooped Cas up into his arms and set him down on a free spot on the kitchen counter. Cas lips were so soft under the touch of his tongue, he couldn't stop kissing him for a second. It seemed like it wasn't any different on Cas' part – he had wrapped his legs tightly around Dean's waist, clinging to him. Dean's hand ran through his hair, occasionally holding him in place that way to get the ideal angle to lick his way into Cas' mouth, along the row of his teeth and circle the tip of Cas' tongue with his own. The touch was still new and exciting, and so very good. Dean felt as giddy as a teenager in high school.

Reluctantly, Dean broke the kiss after another few minutes to gasp for air. 

Cas laughed breathlessly. “I have to admit I thought you'd be too afraid to do this.”

“What, kiss you?” Dean smiled and raised an eyebrow at him.

“No, admit to yourself that there is something more between us.”

“Gabriel kinda kicked my ass to do it,” Dean explained, “and then I come home and see you making pie for me -” he huffed out another laugh, too happy to form his thoughts into words.

“If I can make you happy so easily with baking pie for you, I'd make one every day,” Cas retorted, smiling and leaving a short peck on Dean's lips.

“I'd get flabby. You wouldn't want that,” Dean chuckled.

“Not with your lifestyle, Dean. Too busy with running from monsters to get fat.”

“Hey! I don't run from monsters, I fight them!”

Cas laughed and kissed him once more. “So, what are we gonna do with the Leviathans?”

“We'll find a way. And we're four now, we'll figure something out. Even if we have to buy a whole cleaning company to get all the Borax we need.”

“Maybe we could try throwing pie at them.”

“Oh, nononono, no, Cas. That is no way to treat pie.”

“Then let's just eat it?” Cas said with a nod towards the pie still sitting on the counter beside him.

“Okay, but I don't promise to leave my hands to myself.” Because Dean wanted to touch Cas, everywhere, and never stop holding him and having him right here in his arms.

“You're not supposed to, Dean.”

THE END.


End file.
